


A Day in the Life of Clay

by lauren2381



Category: SEAL Team (TV)
Genre: F/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-25
Updated: 2020-09-08
Packaged: 2021-02-27 10:01:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 44,652
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22395196
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lauren2381/pseuds/lauren2381
Summary: Follow Clay as he goes through all sorts of different injuries, illness, and unfortunate events.
Comments: 136
Kudos: 256





	1. Alcohol, Appendicitis, and Anesthesia, Oh My!

**Author's Note:**

> So I was inspired after writing my piece for Seal Week to write some more whump, so here we are. Enjoy!

Thundering down the stairs of the apartment, Clay stood at the bottom and caught his breath for a moment. He had been late waking up and even later dragging his body through his morning routine. A night out with Sonny Quinn often required a lot of planning and forethought of how the next day was going to treat them, but in a fit of spontaneity, Clay decided against his better judgement to throw caution to the wind and go out for a night. A night that ended with several beers, countless shots, and far too much liquor for any one sailor to consume. 

But consume they did, one might even say that they had  _ overindulged _ . But there was nothing halfway about Sonny and when he puts his mind to something… it got done. Which is how he tells the story of how he got to be a SEAL.  _ You know, my young whippersnapper, once a Texan puts their mind to something, it was done, it’s practically gospel. _ Or so he claimed. 

Either way, the man drank like a fish and it would be several days before Clay would be able to look at a beer without wanting to vomit. As it was, his stomach wasn’t too keen on the idea of getting into a car and driving to base, but it had to be done regardless of whether Clay wanted to or not. By the time Clay had heaved himself into his truck, the steady rumbling of his stomach turned into full on snarls. Clay sat in the parking lot for a moment, hoping that it would calm down and he could find something to put into his stomach. Maybe he just needed something to soak up all the alcohol, there wasn’t exactly time to eat anything before running out the door. 

Nodding to the desk attendant, Clay kept his mouth closed and prayed that he wasn’t sweating through his shirt. This day needed to be over already and it was only 0800. He waved to all the right people and smiled tightly when people attempted to make conversation. His stomach gave one mighty heave and Clay sprinted for the bathroom, hoping that he would make it to the toilet before he spilled his guts. 

Kneeling in front of the toilet, Clay felt the room tilt and whirl around him. The bowl of the toilet seemed so far away and yet he knew that the rim was only a few inches in front of his face. He was hot, but the sweat that was beading on his forehead was cold as it dripped into his eyes. He could only imagine what the rest of him looked like. When his stomach quieted down, Clay pulled himself to the sink to wash out his mouth and splash some water on his face, it would have to do for now. 

“Have too much fun last night?” Ray questions, a smirk pulling on his lips. The Kid looked like someone had stomped on him with a muddy boot, and then ran him over with Sonny’s truck. Nights out with Sonny Quinn were legendary, and Clay wasn’t exactly known for holding his liquor. Ray could only imagine how Clay must be feeling at this moment, he would bet on ‘not good’. 

“We had fun last night,” Clay replied, sitting down next to Ray at the end of the table. What he really wanted was to get this over with so he could go back to bed and hurl in the comfort of his own toilet. But no, after three weeks of back to back OPs they needed to debrief at some point. Hopefully it would go quickly and everyone would agree, there was no need to drag this out any longer than necessary. 

* * *

Ray watched Clay sit down next to him and his ears perked up at the sound of his shallow breathing; RJ did the same thing right before he was going to vomit and hearing the Kid do the same thing set his teeth on edge. As the breathing grew steadier, Ray looked at Clay from the corner of his eye. He was leaning forward slightly, clutching his stomach with his left hand while he was twiddling a pen in his right. Trent was always on them about looking for signs that the Kid wasn’t feeling well so that they could try to get a handle on him, but Ray didn’t see any of his normal patterns. He wasn’t biting his lip or licking them, hell he wasn’t moving at all. Standing from his seat, Ray made his way to the coffee pot in the corner of the room and jerked his head at Trent. 

“What’s the matter?” Trent asked, quietly stirring in a sugar packet.

“Keep an eye on the Kid, something’s wrong,” Ray answered, doing his best to stay hidden. Turns out that Clay was good at reading lips, another one of his many hidden talents, and the last thing that he wanted was for him to think that they were watching him because of what went down on the OP; that was dead and buried, no need to rehash it more. 

“He looks like he went out for a night of drinking, Sonny looks just as bad.”

They stood in silence for a moment, but something wouldn’t stop niggling in the back of Ray’s mind. Clay was flushed, hair sticking to the back of his neck. He wasn’t going for a cup of coffee, instead drinking the stinky tea that Davis had brought for them after the team’s last bout of the flu three weeks ago. 

“Something’s bothering you brother,” Trent replied, looking more closely at Ray. It was the team’s job to bring anything medical to his attention, but an even bigger job that they had all undertaken was reporting anything unusual about Clay. His brother was doing his job and he was dismissing him without even looking closer. He knew better than that.

“I can’t figure out what it is man, but he’s not hungover. Come on, even  _ Sonny’s _ not bitching at him.” Ray whispered, looking at his two teammates. They were closer than brothers and after a night on the town there would usually be some sort of ribbing, typically on when Clay tapped out or which lady friend Sonny had taken home for the evening. But they were silent, with Sonny chewing on his toothpick mildly, one eye peeled in their direction and the other on Clay’s rigid stance. 

“I’ll keep an eye on him, why don’t you bring him a bagel and see if he’ll eat it? I think he’s more nauseous than anything else right now,” Trent mused, slicing another bagel in half. They figured out early that Clay liked bread and crackers when he was nauseous but wouldn’t eat them normally. If Clay was truly not feeling well, he’d eat the bagel, or at the very least pick at it. He was drinking and Trent didn’t think that he had vomited yet, maybe they could get ahead of the dehydration.

“Sure, sure. Just don’t make it obvious man, you know how Clay gets. He doesn’t want anyone pitying him,” Ray admonished, knowing that he didn’t have to explain further to Trent. He would understand that better than anyone.

* * *

Clay fought through another wave of nausea as the rest of the guys filled in and the scent of percolating coffee filled the air. Everywhere he looked, he thought he could feel eyes on him. Jason was flipping through the papers of his AAR, but every now and then he thought that he was glancing his direction, but every time he looked to him his gaze was focused on his reports. Trent and Ray were talking quietly by the coffee pot. Brock had yet to come in with Cerberus, but he was sure that the perceptive pooch would know that something was wrong faster than any of her human counterparts. Sonny, on the other hand, was staring directly at him, but hadn’t said a word. “You got something to say cowboy?”

“Nah,” Sonny drawled. “I was just thinking to myself that you somehow look worse than you did last week when we had the Jello shots at the new place down the street.”

“Wow. I didn’t know that you could think independently, Son. Good for you,” Clay fired back, trying to dismiss the concern that was buried underneath the barb that Sonny threw at him. His stomach was upset, it wasn’t worth getting anyone concerned over.

“Now look here, just because I don’t showcase that particular talent of mine very often doesn’t mean that I  _ can’t _ , I just prefer not to,” Sonny clarified, easily distracted from his original concern with a threat to his ego.

“If you say so Son, takes a lot of thought to pick out a girl for the night.”

Before Sonny could retaliate, Ray came over and placed the bagel in front of Clay. “Easy does it boys, there’s no need to take measurements right now.”

“If everyone’s here, can we begin?” Blackburn said from the head of the table, noting that the boys grew quiet but they didn’t settle completely, somehow unable to sit still for more than a moment before glancing over at Clay. Going over the docs, Eric kept an eye on them, noting that everyone seemed to be keeping a closer eye on Clay. As they read through the comms transcript, Eric had to ask the question that they were all dreading. “Bravo Six, how many shots did you fire on that particular day?”

Clay took his time answering, knowing that all eyes were on him and he couldn’t fall into his old habits when he didn’t feel well. Trent would be on him in a flash if he started to lick his lips and he wanted to put this stupid OP to bed as soon as he could. Swallowing deeply, Clay responded succinctly “I fired three shots.”

Silence prevailed throughout the room. 

No one could accurately say how many shots he had fired that afternoon on the mountainside, but for Clay to definitively claim a number was risky. 

“I fired one shot to confirm jackpot, and then two additional shots for the two assailants that responded to the sound of the shot.”

“And no one can confirm that there were only three shots fired?” a nameless general asked. 

Clay licked his lips and his eyes darted to Trent to see if he noticed. He was seemingly calm, so Clay responded after a moment. “The comms were active, I called out that I was taking additional shots to Bravo One. There was no need to describe how many shots I was firing as the mission unfolded. All of which is detailed in my After-Action Report.”

The general met his eyes and for a moment Clay thought he was going to throw up from nerves and not from whatever was rolling around in his stomach. When the general looked away, Clay tore off a piece of the bagel and listened as his brothers gave their account of that day and how it was  _ Clay _ that saved their bacon. Finally, they finished the AAR and no one seemed to want to spend any more time on that mission in Haiti. As it was, Clay didn’t know that he would make it through another session without excusing himself. 

“Alright boys, take five and we’ll do the next OP, we still have three more to get through before the day’s over.”

No sooner than the words had been spoken, Clay was out of his seat and darting to the cages. He heard the footsteps of Trent and Ray behind him but his main focus was finding a place to vomit in and quickly. Spying a trash can, Clay sunk to his knees and retched. Ray knelt behind him and rubbed his back like he would RJ when he wasn’t feeling well, and it seemed to calm him. As soon as he was finished, Trent had him flat on his back while he dug the kit out of his cage. 

“Looks like pansy boy over there can’t hold his liquor,” Sonny cackled, pointing down at him.

“How long have you been vomiting?” Trent growled from his cage, not liking that he didn’t tell him that he was sick. Or even that he didn’t feel well. And even more mad that Ray was right and he wanted to dismiss him before giving him an exam. 

“Shut. Up. Sonny,” Clay growled from his position on the floor. He was in no mood to try and deal with his smug attitude.

“Trent,” Jason said striding into the cages. “What’s this”

“Don’t know yet boss, looks like someone couldn’t hold their drink, haven’t examined him yet,” he said through a mouthful of IV tubing. Chances are that the kid went down because he was dehydrated from the alcohol, one banana bag ought to do the trick.

“I don’t think so,” Ray replied quietly, kneeling by Clay’s side. 

“What do you mean you don’t think so? We went out last night, we drank, and this morning Blondie over here comes in looking like death warmed over. It ain’t exactly rocket science to put those puzzle pieces together.” Sonny spat out, not liking the look of judgement that crossed Ray’s face. The implication was clear that he wasn’t taking care of his brother and Sonny resented that assumption, they were past that now.

“How much did you drink last night?” Ray questioned, looking down at his flushed face, noting that he was licking his lips. He was gonna hurl, soon.

“Three beers, Sonny had more than me last night,” he got out quickly, turning on his side to heave into the garbage pail again. 

“So, in other words, not nearly enough to make him vomit the next morning,” Ray proposed, swiping his hand over his forehead. “Or cause to give him a fever.”

Clay struggled from his knees to his feet, swaying slightly. “I’m fine, it’s a stomach bug and needs to pass on its own, nothing to see here.” With one step towards the door, he went down like a stack of bricks and Trent was scrambling forward to grab him before he hit the deck.

“Oh, I think there’s plenty to see here,” Trent said, lowering him back down to the floor. He would have to ask Davis for a cot of some sort that they could keep in their cages for situations like this. He doubted that this would be the last time he was examining someone who ‘claimed’ that they weren’t sick. “Brock, you mind helping Clay out of his shirt? I want to take a look at his abdomen.”

“Come on man, can’t you do that with my shirt on?” Clay complained as Brock tugged the shirt over his head like they would do to RJ before a bath. He knew that if he tried to fight them, Jason would just order it and his point would be moot.

“Kid. He wants it off, it comes off,” Jason stated plainly from the corner. He would make it an order if he needed to, but he had a feeling that Clay would oblige.

Clay let his head thump back against the floor, preparing himself for all the countless exams that Trent would subject him to for a simple stomach ache. At least with his shirt off he was a little cooler. “Alright Trent, do your worst.” His stomach chose that moment to seize and he clutched his abdomen, trying to not writhe in pain on the floor. 

Trent gave Clay a good long look, cataloguing every single micro-expression on his face and the minute movements he was trying to hide. He was feverish, nauseous, likely in a fair bit of pain near his belly button. Recovery from alcohol intoxication wouldn’t cause abdominal pain, or a fever. Swiping the thermometer over his temple, Trent was pleasantly surprised that it was hovering just over 101, a low-grade fever. With Clay’s track record, it was hardly a blip on the radar. A stomach bug was seeming more and more likely, but the way that Clay was grabbing his belly wasn’t sitting well with him. He ignored his instincts once, he wasn’t going to do it for a second time in one night. “Clay, do you remember any surgeries as a kid?”

“Um, one. I have my tonsils removed after my fifth round of strep. They didn’t really do surgeries in Liberia unless it was necessary,” Clay responded, confused as to why Trent was choosing this moment to bring up his medical history. “Why?”

Trent didn’t answer, instead moving his glove covered hands across his abdomen. His abdomen looked slightly distended, but nothing that would indicate that he had a bowel obstruction. The presence of bowel sounds ruled out that differential, but didn’t rule anything in either. “Clay? I’m going to press on you belly, let me know if you feel anything or if anything hurts.” He waited for the nod of consent before pressing gently across each quadrant, stopping at the right upper quadrant when Clay hissed in pain. 

“There,” Clay said through gritted teeth.

“Ok, ok, I got it.” Trent said as he removed his hands. 

Fuck. Nausea, fever, abdominal pain at McBurney’s point. 

“Clay? I gotta do one more test, but it’s not going to feel good. Once I do this, I’ll know what’s wrong with you,” Trent asked, getting into Clay’s face. He felt a little guilty about this, but it was the best way to definitively know if he had appendicitis without the use of an ultrasound. 

“Define ‘not feel good’ Trent,” Brock asked from his position by Cerberus. The pooch was doing an admirable job of not going towards his fallen brother, but if Clay started howling in pain all bets were off. 

Trent just grimaced and sucked in a big breath before pressing down on Clay’s stomach and releasing, preparing himself for the scream that tore out of Clay’s throat. They had obviously heard their brother in pain before, but it never got any easier and no one wanted to be the cause of that pain. It was Trent’s least favorite part of his job, but sometimes medicine was pain.

There was chaos all around them: Cerberus was barking, Ray was grumbling, and Sonny was yelling, but Trent’s focus was on Clay. “Easy Clay, easy,” Trent said, injecting him in the thigh with a morphine vial and ignoring the raised eyebrows of Ray and Jason. Now that he knew what this was, he could treat it appropriately. Appendicitis was fucking painful. “You have to take a trip kid, looks like your appendix decided it was time to come out”

“What?” Clay cried, trying to get up from his position but was held down by gentle hands on his shoulders. 

“Trent, you sure about this?” Jason asked stubbornly, not wanting to believe that one of his men was truly out for the count or that they had all been sitting next to their brother while he was sweaty and in pain and thought he was hungover. Jason would have thought that they were better than that; apparently not. 

Trent thought to himself bitterly before he opened his mouth. _ The kid’s fucking appendix is about to burst and he’s sitting there recounting how many shots he fired a week ago.  _ He was sure. “Oh, I’m sure of it boss, he’s gonna need someone to make sure that he gets there and that the dumbasses don’t accidentally kill him. I’ll get the book to go with ‘em.”

“Trent,” Jason sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You just go with him, let us know when he’s out of surgery if we don’t get there before the rest of the AARs are done.”

“You got it boss. Alright kid, let’s go.”

They watched Trent haul Clay to his feet and walk him down the hallway knowing that their brother would likely be out of surgery before they would get the chance to see him again. At least Trent was going with him, he would make sure that Clay was returned to them with all the right pieces, minus one pesky appendix.

“Let’s go finish this, I’ll explain to Blackburn before the big wigs get their panties in a twist,” Jason retorted, clapping Ray on the shoulder as he passed to the briefing room. Ray’s instincts had been right, and Clay would owe him another case of beer. Jason only hoped that the rest of the day passed without incident, there had been enough drama for the day.

* * *

Three hours later, the boys stumble out of the briefing room to get their cellphones. There’s only one message on their screen, but truthfully, they weren’t even expecting that. All Trent had said was: Kid’s in surgery, out within the hour. And that message was sent about forty-five minutes ago, if they hurried they would make it in time to see Clay in recovery. Four big imposing men and one dog made their way down to the base hospital and sat in the tiny pink chairs in the waiting room. Trent had gone in the operating room with Clay and would be out momentarily, or at least that’s what the perky young nurse had explained very reluctantly to Brock. No one could resist the puppy dog eyes that Brock pulled out when necessary, not even nurses that had been vetted by the Navy. 

Plus, he was a SEAL. Who wouldn’t answer to whatever question he had for them?

They were all waiting as patiently as they could, Sonny had found a new toothpick, Brock was petting Cerberus, and Ray had found some sort of magazine that caught his interest, but Jason couldn’t settle. Getting up from his seat, he paced back and forth in front of the doors to the operating room much like he did the day that Emma was delivered. He was anxious and he couldn’t figure out if it was because he had missed the signs of someone in pain or because his rookie was somehow in danger. 

Again. 

When Trent came out of the operating room, he raised his hands before any of the questions could even bubble from his brother’s mouths. “The surgery went fine, he’s in recovery now. Doc’s making an exception for us and letting all of us go back as soon as they can get him in a bed. There’s another waiting room we can go to that’s a little closer.”

They all followed Trent like little ducklings to another waiting room that looked identical to the one that they were just sitting in and took up the same spots. It was rinse and repeat for these types of situations, as they had found themselves in more hospitals than anyone wanted or needed once Clay was drafted to Bravo. Half of those situations were from his own hardheadedness, but the other half was from the kid somehow saving the day, or save the lives of one of his brothers. Trent gave Jason a look and he sat down, not wanting the medic to turn his attention on him for the next exam. The doctor would come and get them when Clay was ready and not a moment before. 

The silence stretched on for what felt like hours but when Cerb’s ears perk up, they all sit up thinking that someone was coming to get them and bring them to their brother. But it wasn’t footsteps that Cerb was hearing, it was someone crying. And not little sniffles, but big, heaving, angry sobs that ripped through the chest. First it was one, then another, and before anyone knew it Sonny was barreling through the double doors to get to the recovery area where his brother was being held. 

“Little Buddy, what’s the matter?” Sonny panted, taking in the sight before him, unsure if he was in pain or if something was actually wrong. Clay was propped up, multiple IVs running, a pink basin on his lap. And tears streaming down his face. Sonny had never seen the kid shed a damn tear and if he did, it was out of sight. No way he was comfortable enough to cry with an audience just outside the damn curtain.

Something had to be wrong.

“Sir, you can’t be back here!” the nurse exclaimed, standing between him and Clay. 

“Listen here, that is my brother right there, and you will not -”

“Sonny,” Trent admonished. Turning to the nurse, he gave his best charm smile before reassuring her. “Don’t worry, I’ll control them.”

The nurse huffed and closed the curtain behind her violently. The corpsman outranked her, but that didn’t mean she had to be happy about them infiltrating her PACU. SEALS were well known for taking care of their own, and if they didn’t cause any problems, she was more than happy to turn the stubborn man’s care over to his brother. 

As Clay continues sobbing, his head and twisting back and forth and for the second time that day, Ray is reminded of when RJ is trying to fight getting sick. “Brother, you feel like you’re going to be sick?”

Clay shook his head and clutched the basin miserably against his stomach. 

“You think they gave him something that wasn’t on your approved list?” Jason questioned Trent quietly, wondering if it was a drug reaction that they hadn’t yet encountered.

“I was with them the entire time, he couldn’t have gotten something extra. Clay, bud, why are you crying?”

“Come on, Blondie. We just wanna help, what’s making you sad?” Sonny tried another approach, holding onto one of Clay’s wrists. 

Clay opened his eyes, and with tears still streaming down his face, replied. “I’m not crying, why do you look like you want to cry?”

No one knew how to respond; the kid clearly wasn’t in his right mind but the sound of his sobs were making their own chests hurt. “Alright kid, I get it, you’re not crying. Why don’t you let me wipe your face though, you got shit all over it again,” Sonny joked, happy when Clay cracked a smile. He relaxed back into the bed and rested his eyes, content that someone was nearby holding onto him. The nurse poked her head in again, but when she saw that they were all calmly sitting around a sleeping man’s bedside, she let them be, not much she could do until he was ready to come out of the anesthesia.

* * *

The next time that the kid opened his eyes, they were all prepared for the waterworks to begin again. Sonny had the tissues in his hand and Cerberus was sitting up on the bed ready to be pet, but it wasn’t needed. This Clay is sleepy and doesn’t want to keep his eyes open long enough for Trent to do an exam, but the nurse seemed to think that he was ready to be discharged, as long as he had someone that could stay with him for the next forty-eight hours. 

“Jace, I’m gonna come out and say it, I think Blondie should come home with me,” Sonny said, puffing out his chest. 

“No way, Cerb and I will take good care of him, besides he likes to cuddle when he doesn’t feel well. Cerberus would provide an endless amount of those.”

“Naima’s a nurse, she’ll be there if something goes wrong”

“I’m a corpsman, I can handle a post op complication from a laparoscopic procedure.”

“Enough. Kid’s coming home with me. If you want to keep an eye on him, rack out on my couch.” Jason wheeled the kid to his truck and got him settled in the back, unsurprised when four cars followed him to his house. It would be a long forty-eight hours if they tried to baby Clay too much, but it was because they cared. Clay seemed to find trouble in the most unsuspecting places but he was keeping them on their toes. Once he had recovered, it seemed that they were going to have yet another chat about keeping symptoms from Trent. It clearly hadn’t sunk in yet and Jason was glad to give another demonstration, he just wished that he could make Clay run hills to really drive the point home.

Oh well, he was sure that Clay would do something to garner that particular punishment in the near future. It was only a matter of time before he came up with another harebrained scheme. He would run hills then. 

But for now, rest and cartoons. 

Just what the doctor ordered.


	2. Blinded by The Light

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a long one, buckle up :)

Running down the alley, Clay panted for air and ducked around a corner. They were outnumbered, with tangoes coming from every direction, attempting to pick off his brothers one by one as they escorted the jackpot out of the country. Whoever this bastard was, he was important, and Clay was not going to be the one to tell Blackburn that they lost the jackpot after they had confirmed. Distantly he heard the soft footsteps of Cerberus and Brock to his left. Ray and Jason were somewhere above them and Sonny was coming from the other direction with Trent. Coming to a junction in the alley, he saw Brock step out and with Cerberus.

Saw the tango wind his arm back. 

“RPG,” He screamed, somehow hoping that Brock would hear him over the smattering of gunfire around them. When he didn’t respond, Clay didn’t think, just acted, cursing once again at the lesson that Adam tried to teach him in Green Team. Fuck it, that was his brother next to him, he wasn’t going to let him down.

His body reacted before his brain and his hand reached out for the collar of Brock’s vest and yanked him backwards, turning just in time to see Cerb duck underneath a piece of wreckage. 

Then there was an explosion, white fiery light surrounded him. 

Then there was darkness.

* * *

Brock came to on his back, Cerberus sitting on his chest licking his face. Lifting a hand to stroke her snout, he tried to take stock of what was happening around his. There were small fires burning, the thick, acrid smell of smoke hung heavily in the air and coated his mouth. He can move everything, and more importantly he still had all four limbs attached and nothing was bleeding. Rolling to his side, he tried to orient himself to where he was when he saw the body of their hostage, eyes staring unblinkingly towards the sky. Fuck, all that time, and risk to life and limb for nothing; complete mission failure. As Brock crawled through the rubble he came across another body, one with a mop of curly blonde hair and gangly limbs and a pit sank in his stomach. 

How could he have forgotten about his brother?

Before the explosion, Brock remembered seeing Clay, remembered watching his mouth move but couldn’t figure out what he was saying. Then the RPG went off and things were fuzzy. Kneeling beside him, Brock was comforted by the fact that his chest was rising and falling, he was alive at the very least, but what else had gone wrong where Brock couldn’t see? That he needed Trent for, he was no corpsman and didn’t know an artery from a vein most days. He really should have taken Trent up on that offer to learn more about field medicine; Brock wouldn’t make that mistake again. If he and Clay made it out of this alive, it was the first thing he was going to do when they get stateside. 

“Bravo Five to Bravo One, do you copy?” he waited a few seconds, hoping that his comms would crackle to life and that Jason would respond. Brock paced anxiously next to Clay, glad that he had Cerberus with him, she would keep him company. “Bravo Five to TOC, do you copy?”

Nothing. 

The comms were down and Clay had still refused to open his eyes. 

Until someone arrived, there was nothing to do but wait and see.

And hope that no one else paid them a visit in the meantime.

* * *

From their vantage point on high, Ray and Jason watched with horror as the explosion lit up the still Palestine night. The resounding boom from the explosion resonating in their ears for a brief moment before the silence returned. Making eye contact with Ray, Jason fired one more shot before packing up his rifle and making his way down the stairs with Ray covering his six. “Bravo One to all Bravo elements, how copy?”

“Sonny and I are good, heading down the west end of the alley toward Brock and Clay,” Trent responded, breath coming quickly as he jogged towards his brothers. 

“Good copy Bravo Four. Bravo Five, Bravo Six, sitrep?” Jason waited for a response, but no one answered and the panic that he was desperately trying to quell started to rise in his throat. “TOC what was their last known pos?”

“About a click away from your current pos, northeast. ISR is still showing a cloud from the explosion, no sign of tangoes or Bravo Five or Six.”

Ray looked to Jason for the ok, if they left their position, they wouldn’t have a vantage point to use if things went south again. Ray was all for going to his brothers and getting the fuck out of a country that they had no business operating in, but that decision wasn’t his to make. Jason nodded and they set off down the road, hoping that they didn’t meet any unfriendly faces before they could reach Brock and Clay. Inching forward, Jason heard footsteps to his left and slowed down, crouching behind an abandoned truck. He put his finger on his comms, but softly called, “Eagle, Eagle,” hoping that it was one of his brothers. 

“Oh, thank fuck, this place is like a ghost town,” Sonny huffed, extending a hand to Jason. They continued down the path towards the worst of the smoke, praying that they wouldn’t find two bodies mangled among the wreckage. 

“….ravo five… do you… all Bravo… “ the comms crackled and Brock’s voice echoed in and out, providing a small measure of peace. Brock was alive, they could only hope that Clay was with him, or at the very least safe.

“Bravo Five, do you copy?” Ray tried once more.

“Bravo… copy…”

There was no way to tell if he had heard the message and was responding or if he was calling out for someone to hear him and send aid. Regardless, they were coming for their brothers. Once they approached the rubble, Trent took point and sent Sonny and Ray to either side, creeping quietly around a corner and running smack dab into Brock, sitting on the street, Cerb curled protectively around a body. All Trent could see from his angle was a pair of legs sprawled haphazardly and the soot covered fur of Cerberus. There was nothing else to indicate the status of that individual and Trent internally started to panic.

“Brock?” Trent called out, and when Brock raised his face, he was taken aback. He had never seen the look of utter  _ defeat _ on his face and it scared the shit out of him. His eyes were dull, brows pinched together with tear tracks visible through the soot that coated his face.  _ Oh God, please don’t let that be my brother’s body, please God, don’t let him be dead. I can’t lose another brother _ .

* * *

Instead of just sitting in the rubble like a pair of sitting ducks, Brock did what every good operator did when faced with a problem, he worked until he found a solution. Only this time there wasn’t a solution on the planet that would make Clay wake up until he was good and ready. His first approach was to move Clay as gently as he could to a position where he could defend. Brock could hear Trent screaming at him internally for moving Clay, but it had to be done. Until Clay could tell him what was wrong, he was operating under the impression that he had a head injury and that nothing was broken. God, he hoped that he didn’t just fuck things up even further than they already were.

“Cerb, stay,” he called over to the pup, smiling lightly when she curled on top of his stomach. The Kid wasn’t getting up without Cerberus letting him know, and  _ no one _ could get to his brother with Cerb watching over him. Clearing some of the rubble, he pried his rifle from the ground and checked to see how many rounds he had left. Not enough to hold off multiple tangoes, but enough that he could get them out of trouble if he needed to, if it came down to that. Clay’s rifle was nowhere to be found, but he wouldn’t be surprised if it was somehow strapped to his body. The Kid didn’t let that thing out of his sight and if they made it out of here, he would baby that thing more than he already did.

“Bravo Five, reporting in, do you copy? All Bravo elements, how copy?” Brock tried the comms again, not expecting much. The explosion must have fried the frequency, or his transmitter was cracked from being thrown around like a rag doll.

He waited for a moment, hoping that there would be a response. Sitting on the dirt road with his rifle across his lap, he pressed the comms. “All Bravo elements, this is Bravo Five, how copy?”

There wasn’t a response from any of his brothers, but he sensed movement next to him and when he glanced over, Clay was shifting on his back, hands grasping at dirt below. “Hey Clay, you with me?”

“Brock?” Clay slurred, body stilling on the ground. He can’t be in too much trouble if his brother is with him.

“Yeah buddy, I’m here with you. How do you feel?” Brock was anxious to find it out if Clay could tell him anything about how he was feeling. Was he in pain? Did he know if something was broken? Was he bleeding anywhere? 

Clay didn’t answer, just moved restlessly on the ground. He couldn’t actually go anywhere with the weight of Cerberus on his chest, but he was trying, moving his arms and legs. “Brock, what, tell me what happened?”

“There was an explosion, dirty RPG. Do you remember?” Brock pressed, hoping that Clay would open his eyes. He shook his head and scrunched up his forehead. Brock continued, words bubbling out of his mouth. “You have all of your limbs; nothing looks like it’s broken. Can you open your eyes for me?”

“Brock, what the hell is over my head right now,” Clay asks, voice trembling. 

There’s a beat of silence, there’s nothing on Clay’s head except his gear. “What do you mean brother, there’s nothing over your head.”

“Is there something on my eyes, Brock. My eyes…”

“No, nothing’s there. Clay, what’s going on?!” Brock exclaimed, kneeling next to him, noting that Clay’s eyes were open, but unfocused over his shoulder. 

“Brock, I can’t see anything, what’s going on?” Clay murmured, trying to keep the panic from escaping the small little box he shoved it in when he is operating. There’s often no place for panic when decisions that are made in a split decision take over your mind. They all had methods to control it, Clay’s was just the most organized.

“You can’t see anything?” Brock questioned dumbly. His eyes were open, there was nothing in them aside from the soot that was caked on everything. Clay shook his head and tried to reach his hands up to pat his face. 

“That’s ok brother, I can’t see much either. Your NODS are busted, and it’s pitch black out here,” Brock reassured him emptily. The lies were pouring out of his mouth like water and there was no way to tell if Clay believed him or not. “Just close your eyes brother, don’t try and get up. The boys are on their way to us.”

Clay nodded jerkily and closed his eyes and Brock could see his mouth moving as he muttered to himself. From the sound of it, he was  _ praying _ . Fuck this wasn’t good.  _ If anyone is up there, my brother believes in You, help me out here, please, I’m begging you, let my brother be alright. _

* * *

As Brock saw Trent approach, his comms crackled to life again and he heard the soft tones of Ray’s voice, “Bravo Five, all Bravo elements reporting to your pos, do you copy?”

“Loud and clear Bravo Two, damn glad to hear your voice,” Brock responded, feeling the knot in his throat loosen a little bit. He kept his eyes focused on his rifle, content that his brothers were somewhere in the alley with him, he didn’t need to be on the defensive anymore, they got him. As soon as Trent got into range, he glanced at Cerb and gave him the command as he moved towards his brother, stumbling to get his footing.

“Brock, where’s Clay?” Trent called out, keeping his voice steady. 

“Cerb’s with him, but Trent, you gotta know this,” Brock pressed, stumbling as the ringing in his ears intensified as he tried to get to him across the rubble.

“Brock, stay there damn it. Are you hurt? Is Clay hurt? What’s the SitRep?”

“Where’s Jason? I need to tell you, Trent there’s something wrong,” Brock cried, the words wouldn’t come out of his mouth no matter how many times he put the thought into his mind. His brother couldn’t see, and it was all his fault, this was all his fault.

“Slow down, easy brother,” Trent said wrapping his arm under his armpit and guiding him to where he saw Clay’s legs sticking out from behind an overturned car. “Did you move him?”

“I had to, we couldn’t stay in the middle of the road, I didn’t know what to do, he didn’t look like he was bleeding or that anything was broken, and we couldn’t stay in the middle of the road. I didn’t know, Trent,” Brock rambled, rubbing his hand over his face.

“You did good, Brock. Sit down for me, ok? Cerb,” he called, laughing when the pup lifted one ear to listen but didn’t come over to her owner. Brock whistled and she came to sit next to him as Trent eased him to sit down, taking note of how he swayed even sitting.  _ They must have been close to the blast for his balance to be that off _ , he thought to himself. Trying to be unobtrusive, he assessed him as best he could, looking for anything leaking out of his ears or from his nose. He was speaking in a normal volume, if a little pressured, but Trent was fairly sure that he hadn’t ruptured the tympanic membrane. He couldn’t rule out a head injury definitively, but he was walkie talkie for the moment, if something changed… they’d be in trouble.

“Trent, he was awake, he was out until just a minute ago, but he told me that he can’t see. He can’t see, Trent!” Finally, able to get the words out, the rest of his fears tumbled out of his mouth and the tears start pouring again. 

“I’ll take a look, Ray and Jason are on their way with Sonny. Rest for me, brother. You did good, I got it from here,” Trent patted his shoulder, unable to spend more time reassuring him. If Clay was really as bad off as Brock was making it seem, his attention needed to be with him. Brock would be alright until the rest of his brothers arrived. 

“Hey Kid, I’m gonna take a look at you, exfil is two mikes out. Do you hurt anywhere?” Trent said, kneeling next to him. Brock was right, nothing was out of place, there was no obvious bleeding or contusions.

“No, I don’t have any pain. Brock said that it’s dark, do your NODS work? I want to look at the jackpot,” Clay asked, looking to where he thought Trent’s voice was coming from, still confused as to why his eyes hadn’t adjusted to the darkness yet. 

Trent was confused for a minute, then he realized what Brock had done to ensure that the Kid wasn’t going to panic. “Yeah, my NODS work, but I gotta see you first. The jackpot didn’t make it out,” he said, glancing at the lifeless body behind Clay. Maybe he was going straight to hell, but if he had the choice, he would always choose his brother over anyone else, even if that person was important to national security, there were times when he just didn’t give a damn. Tonight, was one of them. 

“It’s not that dark out, is it Trent? The sun should be coming up soon,” Clay said, swallowing heavily. His hands dug into the dirt next to him and he tried to keep his breathing steady and even. He wasn’t being told all of the information, they were hiding something from him, it wasn’t dark, but he couldn’t see. Something was wrong and he  _ couldn’t see. _

“Just stay calm for me, listen do you hear the rotors?” Trent evaded the question, holding his hand up to signal that he needed some space. The boys wouldn’t come over if they didn’t receive a signal, and more bodies that he could hear but not see would confuse Clay even more.

“Yeah, I hear them, Trent. I’m scared, Trent,” Clay clutched his arm clumsily and there was nothing Trent could say to make him feel better. He could deal with broken bones and concussions and bleeding, but he didn’t know shit about the brain. He would need specialists and testing, and they would all have to hope like hell that it wasn’t permanent. 

“I got you brother, gonna give you an injection, we’ll see you on the other side ok?” Trent didn’t wait a second for his consent, just used the time before the basket was sent down from the helo to give him the haldol, hoping it would help him stay calm for the flight. He couldn’t go with him and an injured Clay away from Bravo was not a situation any of them wanted to find themselves in, but it couldn’t be helped. Trent just hoped that they would see him before he woke up in Virginia Beach. He wanted to be the first face that Clay saw when he woke up. 

If he could see. 

* * *

Drip. Drip. Drip. the steady sound of an IV running was the first thing that Clay recognized when he woke up.  _ Another day, another hospital _ , he thought to himself wryly as he brought his hand up to his face, noting the bandages that covered his eyes.

“You’re awake.”

That was Trent. He could hear him, but he couldn’t see anything through the bandages. Itching the skin near his right eye, he tried to pry the tape off, only to have his hand grasped tightly in Trent’s large palms.

“Don’t take the bandages off, you need them to stay in place for a little while longer,” he admonished gently. When he was sure that he wasn’t going to go for the tape again, Trent let go of his hand and sat back down in his seat, preparing himself to answer the questions that were on the tip of Clay’s tongue. 

“What happened?”

Great. At least they were starting at the beginning. “There was an RPG, you saw the tango fire, got Brock and Cerb out of the way before it went off, you were in direct line of fire.”

“How do I still have all my limbs?” he questioned, restlessly moving in the bed.

“I don’t know, we didn’t get an exact location of where the RPG hit. The blast knocked you and Brock for a bit, Brock came around first and started to clear the rubble. We got there maybe a half hour after the strike. We’re home now, on standby for a few weeks.”

“What aren’t you telling me, Trent.” Clay couldn’t look at his face or see his expression, but he knew that there was more. It was a clawing feeling in his gut that he couldn’t shake, he just hoped that Trent respected him enough to tell him the truth.

“The official diagnosis is a corneal flash burn, a condition in which the white part of your eye was exposed to an ultraviolet light for a period of time at close range.”

“So, I’m blind.” Clay swallowed heavily and felt the prick of tears in his eyes.

“No, you’re not. It’s temporary, but no one can put a time limit on  _ how _ temporary. They’re giving me drops and antibiotics and we’re going to keep your eyes covered for a day or so, but the doctors are confident that you’ll make a full recovery. You’re going to stay with me for a few days, they’re thinking of discharging you today.”

They sat in silence for a while, Clay still grappling with the fact that he’s blind, or at least for the moment, he’s blind. The word rolls around in his head and Clay can’t think about anything else. Nothing is making sense; his entire world revolves around him operating. But he’s  _ blind _ .

* * *

Later that afternoon Clay hears the whoosh of the automatic door to his hospital room and strained to try and figure out who had come to see him, he knew it wasn’t Trent but that still left four other options. He heard the shuffling of feet and the horrible crinkling sound the vinyl chair made when someone sat down, but the person didn’t make a sound. Taking a deep breath, Clay smelled wet dog. 

Definitely Brock.

“Hey Brock,”

“Clay,” his voice sounded wrecked, scratchy and hoarse. “I’m so sorry brother, I can’t, I don’t have words to tell you-”

“I would do it over and over again, you have nothing to feel sorry about.”

“Anything you need Clay, anything at all,” Brock swore, grasping his hand on the bed.

“Think you can sneak Cerb in here for me?” Clay asked, lips quirking up in a grin. 

* * *

Sonny comes in when he thinks that Clay is asleep, and he is more than content to let him operate under that assumption. The stress of the day and the realization that even with all of Trent’s reassurances, the doctors still don’t know when he’ll be able to see.

_ If _ he’ll be able to see

He tries to not let those thoughts creep into his mind, Trent wasn’t worried.

He would be fine.

“If you’re trying to sneak in when I can’t see ya Sonny, you gotta be quieter than that, heard you coming all the way down the hall.”

“Wasn’t trying to be quiet, wanted to come see you.”

“Can’t exactly see you right now,” Clay bit out sarcastically.

“You know what I mean, Clay.”

“I don’t Son, I can’t see you and can’t see the future, can’t see a damn thing,” Clay raged, gripping the sheets in his hands.

“Clay…” Sonny drawled, trying to find the right words. 

“Please leave Sonny”

“I ain’t gonna do that, I’m not leaving you Kid.” Sonny leaned back in the creaky chair and chewed roughly on his toothpick all the while pretending to not hear the sobs that escaped Clay’s throat. Sonny, for a brief instant, was glad that Clay couldn’t see the tears on his face either.

* * *

Ray stops by the next morning when they’re removing his eye patches and for a moment, he forgets and opens his eyes, half expecting to see the unending darkness. But he doesn’t, there are shapes and colors, blurred, but there. Squeezing his eyes shut, he lets Trent fuss over him with the eye drops and the sunglasses, but he still refuses to open his eyes. 

“Brother you gotta open your eyes at some point,” Ray pointed out, pushing his wheelchair down the hallway to the lot where Trent had parked the truck.

Clay didn’t have a response for him, maybe if he stayed quiet, he wouldn’t have to own up to his fears. Of course, it wouldn’t be that easy, Ray Perry was many things; funny, compassionate, supportive, but most of all intuitive. “I know you’re scared Clay. Hell, I’d be going out of my mind right now, but if you never give yourself the chance to try and get better, you never will.”

“It’s easy for you to say that, Ray,” Clay muttered, crossing his arms over his chest.

“You’re right, it is easy for me to sit here and tell you what you should do and how you should recover, but don’t forget that I know this fear, faced this fear, and came back to operating. A shoulder is a lot different than eyes, but the fear we feel? That’s the same, no matter what part of the body.”

Clay let the words roll over him but doesn’t respond. The real question was if not operating was the  _ only _ thing that he was actually afraid of, or if this fear ran deeper.

* * *

Trent’s guest room was familiar, the sheets were soft and the silence that resonated through the room was comforting. He didn’t have to talk to anyone, didn’t have to hear the pity in their voice or feel the loaded glances that they shared and pretended that he didn’t know about. In the confines of those four walls, he could be Clay and feel whatever he was feeling without censoring anything. He could be mad, he could be sad, hell he could be downright  _ pissed _ . And he was all of the above. His life was crumbling around him and he didn’t know how to fix it, or where to even begin.

“Kid, you got a visitor,” Jason said, knocking gently on the doorframe. 

Clay shook his head, face tipping up to the ceiling. 

“She’s not taking no for an answer, don’t come out till you’ve worked this out.” Clay heard Jason’s retreating footsteps and the soft padding of Emma’s footsteps and the rustling of the bed as she settled herself next to him.

“Are we going to talk about this or are we going to pretend that this isn’t happening,” Emma said plainly, voice quiet and raspy. 

Clay winced, knowing that she had been crying recently. He definitely fucked up here. “I’m sorry.” He figured that that was a good start.

Emma chuckled wetly. “What are you sorry for? The fact that I had to find out that you were injured from my dad? The fact that I didn’t even know that you were stateside? Or the fact that you didn’t even think to try and tell me that you were alright?”

“All of it? I didn’t know what to do Emma, I couldn’t even wrap my head around it,” Clay turned on the bed to face her, hands itching to grab onto her and never let go.

“We promised to face everything together, Clay. After everything that’s happened in the last year, I need to know that you’re not going to shut me out when things get hard.” Emma said, sniffling slightly. 

“I couldn’t face it Em. What if I never see anything ever again? Forget me operating for a minute. What if I can’t see your face when I propose, or watch you walk down the aisle or look into our kid’s faces? What if I can’t do any of that?”

“Then we deal with it, we get you the training you need, go to all the specialists. You really think that Trent would let you just accept one doctor’s opinion? _ We _ wouldn’t let you down, Clay”

“Emma, I’m scared to even open my eyes right now. Trent told me that it could take a few days, but since I left the hospital, I couldn’t, I don’t think that I can look,” Clay whispered, reaching for her across the bed, smiling when he felt the soft skin of her palm.

“I’m right here with you, whatever it is,” Emma reached up and took off the sunglasses, stroking her thumb over his cheek. She could stare at his beautiful face all day, but what she really longed for was to look into his eyes, those beautiful blue eyes that she fell in love with that first day in her backyard over a year ago.

They sat in silence for a minute, before Emma laid across his chest. They would go at his pace, however long it took him to open his eyes. She was there and she wasn’t going to let go, even if they were up all night long. 

“Emmie K?”

“Yeah babe,” Emma muttered, rubbing small circles onto the back of his hand with her thumb. 

“Are you wearing my sweatpants?”

“Yeah, they were what I had at my house, I ran over here when dad told me you were being a bear,” Emma muttered absent-mindedly.

Clay just nodded and waited for his words to sink in and grinned when her head popped off his chest and her neck craned up to look at his face. “I told you so,” she laughed, grabbing his face in her hands. His blue eyes were open and focused on her face, even if he was squinting a bit in the dying afternoon sunlight. “You see me?”

“I see you babe, well, kinda. You’re a little blurry, but I see you. I see you,” Clay smiled through the tears that were burning his already irritated eyes, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. He could  _ see _ . 

“Let me get Trent,” Emma said, wiping her eyes and starting to climb out of the bed towards the door. The boys would be ecstatic when they heard, she was really all of their last hope to get through Clay’s thick head and realize what was right in front of his face. 

“No, don’t,” Clay said gently, tugging her back to his chest. “Let’s just let it be you and me for a little while, we can tell them in the morning. You don’t have class tomorrow, right?”

“I don’t give a damn about my classes right now, Clay. I’m just happy to be here with you today. The guys aren’t going anywhere, and neither am I, we can tell them later.”

Slotting himself behind Emma, Clay rested his head on the pillow and let the stress of the last week melt away. Here in the safety of Trent’s guest room with Emma in his arms, he was in bliss. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know your thoughts and if you have any prompts for 'C'... or any other letter


	3. Cramped, Confined, Confessed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Although he was sure that there would be another reason that someone would be yelling at him. He would need them to come and get his ass anyways. He could just reach the button for his comms with his right hand, and when they crackled to life he grinned. Maybe things weren’t quite as bad as he thought. He’d sit pretty for a bit and the boys would come and get him. No problem.  
> “Uh guys? I think I’m in trouble.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My writer's block has lifted!

Well. 

Shit. 

Clay knew that he was screwed from the moment he opened his eyes, and that might have been the understatement of the century. One minute he’s staring down the barrel of his rifle and the next… 

What happened?

_ Think Spenser, where the fuck are you?  _ From the sliver of light above him, he could just make out the piles of wood sticking every which way, though none of them seemed to be sticking  _ out _ of him. Small miracle as far as he was concerned. Taking a shallow breath, he wiggled his toes and gradually moved up his body, sighing in relief when both of his feet moved, and he could feel his hands. Clay panted as he tried to move his arms and legs. Every which way he turned there was another piece of debris and no matter how much he wiggled; he couldn’t get out from under the beam that was pressing on his chest. To the right was a scary piece of wood that looked awfully pointed and when he tried to roll onto his left side, things got kinda fuzzy for a bit. Definitely not going to be doing that anytime soon. As he got his breathing under control, Clay took stock of the situation. He was stuck, but nothing bleeding, and nothing broken after an injury was good enough for him, meant that Trent wouldn’t yell quite as loudly when they found him. 

Although he was sure that there would be another reason that someone would be yelling at him. He would need them to come and get his ass anyways. He could just reach the button for his comms with his right hand, and when they crackled to life he grinned. Maybe things weren’t quite as bad as he thought. He’d sit pretty for a bit and the boys would come and get him. No problem.

“Uh guys? I think I’m in trouble.”

* * *

It was always easier, at least in Jason’s opinion, to blend in when you didn’t have to worry about being seen. They would land in the middle of the night and take out the target by morning. No witnesses, no covers, and a hell of a lot less danger. But you couldn’t always get what you wanted, and the asset wouldn’t compromise. And of course, Mandy insisted that this was the only way to get her information; somehow he was having more and more difficulty saying no to her pretty blue eyes. Which is how he ended up sitting in a dusty cafe in the middle of the damn day watching Mandy work for her intel. Sweeping his eyes across the cafe, he saw Trent and Ray sitting at the far end pretending to eat some scones and drink their coffee. Distantly he heard the twang of Sonny’s voice in the street with Brock's quiet chuckle. He didn’t hear Clay, but he knew that he had set up shop somewhere to cover their six, and knowing the Kid, it was somewhere that none of them would even think to check.

The comms sparked in his ear and Jason was half expecting Sonny to complain in his ear. Something about it being too hot, or he was bored, or that this damn recon mission was just taking far too long. His second guess would have been on Ray, hopefully telling him that they could get the hell out of dodge because Mandy was done. Or that he needed to get in there, guns blazing. Now that would have really made his day, far better than sitting on his ass. But it wasn’t either, it was the damn Kid. 

“Uh guys? I think I’m in trouble.”

“What do you mean you  _ think _ you’re in trouble? You either are or you aren’t, there ain’t an in between,” Sonny growled. Of course, the little shit had to figure out some way to get abducted or blown up or hell even a fucking hang nail. If there was trouble, Clay Spenser would find it, guaran-damn-teed. 

“I, I don’t know. I was in my nest, had a visual on Mandy and the asset, then I didn’t and now I don’t really know where I am, is the asset ok?” Jason frowned. He had never heard Clay sound quite so rattled before and it was unnerving to hear his voice tremble over the tiny comms feed. Standing, he caught Mandy’s eye as he left the building. Her conversation was over, now. 

“Are you still in the nest?” Ray asked, wondering what the hell Clay had gotten himself into, how much trouble could he find in a sniper nest? Although sniper nests and Clay Spenser didn’t currently have the best track record… his last attempt left him with a bullet to the head.

“I don’t know, I don’t remember if I left. I looked through the scope, blinked, and now I’m here.”

“You lost consciousness?” Trent said tersely, not liking the sequence of events. There was no way to have an accurate timeline, no way to know how long he had been unconscious or how hard he hit his head. Too many unknowns for his taste. 

“I must have? I can’t really remember or maybe I didn’t?”

“Are you bleeding? Anything broken?” Trent went through his normal checklist with the Kid while Ray ushered Mandy out to the street with Jason. If Clay thought he was in enough trouble to call for help, it was definitely time to circle the wagons. 

“No and no,” Clay said smugly, happy to report that it maybe wasn’t as bad as they were thinking. “I’m just stuck.”

“The hell you mean, you’re stuck?”

“I can’t move Sonny, I’m stuck. Literally.”

Trent sucked in a big breath and forced his face to remain impassive. Not being able to move was a bad sign and he  _ knows _ for damn sure that he taught all of Bravo the things that they were supposed to report immediately, BBM: blood, bones, and movement. They couldn’t do anything if they couldn’t get to the exfil point. Spenser had conveniently left one out in his mini report. “Spenser,” he said with as much patience as he could muster. “You can’t  _ move?” _

“Yeah, I’m stuck” A beat and then Clay swore. “Ah jeez, not like that Trent, I’d have said  _ something _ if I couldn’t feel anything. All my fingers and toes move and as far as I can tell, it doesn’t hurt to move them. There’s something pressing on me and I can’t wiggle out from under it.”

“Alright, don’t move more than you have to, key in if something else happens. We’re on our way to get ya,” Jason cut off the scathing retort that was sure to come from deep in Trent’s soul. Now was not that time to be bickering, Trent could yell at him later, he was sure that there would be plenty of time and it would allow Trent to fine tune his lecture even further, maybe add some new parts. The Kid had certainly heard the lecture enough at this point, hell even Cerb could probably recite it at this point. 

“You got it boss.”

And then the comms went dead and Jason stared at his brothers. It wasn’t an ideal way to end an OP in a country that was more volatile than a dry haystack in the middle of the summer, but shit happened. “Mandy, you get what you needed?”

“And then some, should have a package ready for you tomorrow.”

Jason nodded and tried to think of a way to get her back to base, him to Clay, and somehow back to TOC in time for another debrief. He couldn’t possibly be in two places at once and Clay needed him  _ now _ . But if Mandy got injured because he prioritized one of his men over her, he didn’t know how to categorize the rage he felt in his chest at the thought. Staring at her, Jason made eye contact and smirked internally when Mandy’s gaze didn’t falter. The girl was really made out of steel underneath her colorful scarves and pink nail polish. “You get back to TOC on your own or do you need an escort?”

“I’m no fainting daisy, Jason, I can handle a walk down the block.”

Jason just stared, not satisfied with her cavalier attitude. Women weren’t exactly safe in this part of the world, much less one with pale skin and blue eyes. “You’re sure?”

“Jason, go to Clay. We set TOC up five mikes from here. I’ll key in when I get there, and you can tell Blackburn that it was my idea.”

“If I don’t hear from you and have to come  _ get  _ you…” Jason deliberately let his sentence trail off, hoping it would be warning enough. He didn’t want to have to go after Clay and Mandy in the same mission. Really, he didn’t want to ever be in the situation where he had to go after Mandy, but she didn’t need to know that at this moment. And where the  _ fuck _ did that thought come from?

“I got it,” she said with a smile. Mandy turned and walked away from the crowd, blending in seamlessly. She wasn’t CIA for nothing.

The first thing to do would be to see if anyone had eyes on the Kid. “TOC, this is Bravo One, how copy?”

“Good copy, Bravo One, what can I do for ya?” That was the strong voice of Lisa Davis and Jason could not have been happier to have her back, running with Bravo again. Another added bonus was that Sonny had lost his attitude with Davis’ arrival, but again, Jason wasn’t going to touch that one unless someone  _ told _ him to, some things just weren’t worth the headache.

“Got eyes on Bravo Six?”

“Negative Bravo One, nothing on ISR and he’s geotagged in the same market that you all are, why?” There was a hint of suspicion in her voice and Sonny couldn’t help himself and put in his two cents. 

“Because Spenser over here forgot his brain at home today. Blondie can’t seem to remember how he found himself in a spot of trouble and we now have to go get the kid.”

“What do you mean go get him, Bravo Three?”

“He’s fine, Blackburn. Walkie talkie but pinned under something, we just need the coordinates and we’re set to exfil.” Jason said with a glare, soothing any ruffled feathers in TOC. There was no need to panic anyone until there was a reason to be panicked.

“Hang tight then, I’ll try and triangulate the signal further. TOC out.”

Striding over to Ray, Jason longed for the days when he could predict where Ray would lay his nest. Spenser was never that predictable, preferring to hide out in the most ass backwards locations and somehow managing to get just the right angle wherever he went. It was the most damning and infuriating part of the Kid and every time he came down from his nest, he wanted to wring his neck for taking yet another risk, but no risk, not reward. “Where do you think he set up shop?”

“Honestly, brother? I have no idea. There are plenty of options, no telling which one he picked. I would set up further out but knowing him… he’s in one of the alleys. Best view and a shorter range.”

The static in his ears twitched to life again. “It's getting harder to breathe, you guys on your way?” Ray gave Jason a long look. It was probably better to not tell the kid that they had no idea how to find him or where to start looking. They couldn’t exactly search each building; they didn’t have the time. Not to mention it wasn’t exactly keeping a low profile in a country that they weren’t even supposed to be operating in the first place. 

“Hang tight there, we’re working the problem. You should try and do some crunches while you’re waiting, or I know, bicep curls. You’re starting to look a little pudgy there kid,” Sonny joked, eyes narrowing at Jason and Ray.

“Definitely not moving,” Clay joked, breathing quickly. “I can’t even turn over, not enough space to -” Clay stopped talking to cough and gasp for air when his ribs contracted painfully. 

“Clay, I know it hurts. Deep breath,” Trent took over, voice softening at the panic in Sonny’s eyes. They all knew that Sonny was just trying to take his mind off the situation and joke around, like they had done hundreds of times before when OPs didn’t work out as planned. He didn’t intend anything maliciously. Trent wasn’t even sure there was a truly mean bone in his body, no matter how hard he tried to cover it up with bravado and scantily clad women.

Eventually the coughing faded and Clay’s gasps for breath got slower. “I’d really appreciate getting out of here now,” he said with a rasp.

“And we will, we’re working on it now. Clay, can I have you do some things for me until I get there? I can’t assess you without knowing some more information, is that ok?” Brock and Ray were looking at him like he had two heads, but he barreled on, there would be time to explain later. His greatest concern was keeping Clay calm and involved, the more time he had alone the greater the risk was that he would panic. Any anxiety in a confined space would do more harm than good.

“Yeah, I can try, what do you need Trent?” Clay tried to focus through the throbbing in his head and the burning he felt in his chest.  _ Shit that hurt. _

“I’m gonna set a timer, I want you to try and take your heart rate for me. I’ll tell you when to stop counting ok?” he waited until Clay confirmed he was in position and started the clock. It felt like the longest minute of his life, but as he can hear Clay counting under his breath, Trent silently counted the rapid respirations he heard through the tinny comms link. Fast. Shallow. The slightest hint of an expiratory wheeze. When his watch beeped, he was at twenty-eight respirations in one minute, far too fast. “Alright bud, what’d you get?”

“One thirty-eight, but Trent, Trent, that’s too fast, are you sure that you guys are coming to get me out? Trent can someone come get me out?”

Shit. The kid was starting to panic and most of the symptoms he was exhibiting could be explained away due to increased anxiety, but Trent wasn’t so sure that was the only thing going on, not with Clay Spenser. “Yeah Clay, we’re coming to get you, but in the meantime, can you reach your inhaler?” Trent was hesitant to even let him take the inhaler, but it might ease his breathing a little bit. 

“I can try, hold on, I can almost - aw son of bitch! Ow!”

“What? Clay, what happened? Talk to me,” Trent didn’t like the cry of pain. He didn’t report any pain in the initial sitrep. Did something shift? Was his location compromised?

There were a few tense seconds before Clay responded, “Getting to that inhaler is gonna be a no go, Trent, left side hurts like a bitch.”

“Ok, ok, that’s fine. Just keep trying to take deep, slow breaths.” Trent found himself pacing back and forth in the street just to get some of the tension out of his body. He could feel Brock and Sonny hovering in the background, likely picking up on some of his anxiety. Forcing himself to shut it in a tiny box in the back of his mind, Trent keyed the comms again. “Clay, can you tell me more about the pain?”

“It’s um burning, throbbing, but only when I move. Trent why can’t I move it? Are you going to make it come off? I really want to get out of here.”

“I know, I’m working on it buddy, ok?” Trent couldn’t help but baby Clay a little bit. He sounded so scared and Trent couldn’t help but hear Mikey’s voice in Clay’s pressured speech. There were a lot of times when Clay was hurt or scared and Trent forgot that he was a grown man and was trained to be deadly in the field when he sounded so much like him, except Mikey was almost ten years younger and not a fully trained SEAL.

“What’s going on with Clay? He doesn't sound right,” Brock’s voice came softly over his shoulder not through his comms. Trent could always count on Brock to pick up on things and not make a fuss, he was good like that. Brock was likely the only one who understood Trent’s motive of keeping Clay busy and Trent was grateful that yet again he didn’t have to explain his thoughts out loud, Brock already knew.

“He’s trapped in a tight space, probably starting to get confused, disoriented. I never even thought to ask if the Kid was claustrophobic when I was doing his health screening, but if he is claustrophobic, it’s certainly not helping anything. I hope it’s not anything worse than that, but I can’t tell you for sure. Jay, are we any closer to finding the signal?”

“Davis is still working on it, should be any minute.”

“I’m telling you Trent; we should have chipped the kid when we had a chance. He was already under anesthesia; another little slice wouldn’t have made a difference. Would make finding him a lot easier right now.”

“Cerberus can seek far better than a chip can transmit,” Brock said with a huff. “As soon as we get a location, she’ll find him. Don’t worry about that.”

* * *

Clay tried to breathe, tried to stay still, tried to do anything but think about how he was essentially stuck in a coffin that had sharp, pointed edges that felt like it was closing in on him by the second. Moving his feet restlessly, he tried to move the beam again only to let out a sharp gasp when his shoulder protested. Loudly. As the dust settled around him, the beams around him made the small space feel even smaller and there was something moving against his leg, crawling towards him. Biting back a scream, Clay tried to think through his muddled mind.  _ Think Clay! How can you get out of this? Think! _ Keying his comms again, Clay only barely stopped himself from crying, but he couldn’t stop a sharp gasp from escaping his lips. 

“Clay? I’m right here with ya buddy, what’s going on?” Trent’s soothing voice came through and Clay couldn’t take it anymore.

“Trent, Trent I need to get out! Please someone come get me out of here, I’ll be good, just let me out. I feel like the walls, Trent, the walls are closing in on me. Something’s crawling, please just get me out,” he rambled, the tears that were pooling in his eyes making clean tracks over his dusty face as his bottom lip trembled. 

“I know, Clay. I’m right here, just focus on me.” Trent’s voice felt really far away, and for a brief minute he thought that they were going to leave him in his nest just like Ash had locked him in that room all those years ago.

“You just wait, Clay. I’ve been wanting to let Cerb seek for a while now, she’ll find you faster than any of us. I hope you have treats in your pack. Gonna take more than one for this.” Brock using Cerberus as a way to get Clay to focus was the most  _ Brock _ thing that he had ever heard, and it worked. He let out a brief chuckle before the thought of Cerb seeking for his dead body crossed his mind. He only hoped that they found his before this stupid beam got any heavier. 

“Hey Clay, we’re coming to get you real soon. Now I know I don’t have to tell you this, but don’t move ok? We’re gonna get you out of there.”

“Sonny,” Clay muttered in his comms.

“What’s up Blondie, you got us all here with ya.”

“Something’s on my legs, I can feel it crawling over me,” he whispered tremulously. At first, he didn’t want to focus on the sensation, but with nothing to see and everything to feel, Clay couldn’t ignore it anymore.

Sonny shared a long look with Trent. If he was concussed, confused, then maybe there wasn’t anything there, but that thought brought about a whole other host of problems, like why he’s now hallucinating. Maybe it was better to focus on the possibility that something  _ was  _ there if only to stop thinking about the alternatives. “Clay,” Sonny said, keeping his voice soft. “Do you think you can move your leg? Jostle it a bit, maybe it’ll scare the little bugger off.”

“Yeah, I’ll try that, but Sonny please don’t leave me here alone, I, the ceiling man. It’s too close, please man. I can’t stay here anymore. Someone get me  _ out! _ ”

It was that exact moment that Trent let out a muffled curse. The intense panic that claustrophobia created in the body was likely impacting whatever injuries Clay did suffer. A faster heart rate meant more bleeding, faster breathing meant a higher chance of inhaling all sorts of foreign substances. None of which boded well for Clay. Sonny met Trent’s eyes and his resolve hardened; he was going after the kid come hell or high water. 

“You’ll never have to worry about that one, ok Blondie? I’m comin’ to get ya, just give me five more minutes. Can you do that for me?” Sonny’s voice cracked and he cleared his throat before opening the comms channel again. “Clay?”

“Five more minutes,” Clay heaved a sigh and took in a measured breath before coughing when it got stuck in his throat. “Hurry.”

* * *

“Jace, I’m about to go door to door and find him, consequences be damned. Get me those coordinates or get ready for some hellfire,” Sonny growled, checking the mag on his rifle. He would do whatever it took to get to Clay and then when he was feeling better, beat the living shit out of him for thinking that they would leave him in whatever hole he had found himself in now. Apparently, they hadn’t quite convinced Clay that Bravo was better than his good for nothing father and Sonny was more than happy to remind him of that as many times he needed for it to sink in properly.

“I’m there with you, Son. Brock, you think Cerb can follow a scent through the city?” Jason said, thinking through possible solutions while they waited for TOC. What was taking them so long was beyond him, but if they weren’t going to bring him a solution he sure as hell wasn’t going to wait any longer. He’d just have to make his own solution.

“Hell yeah, Boss. Cerberus,” the pup’s ears perked at her master’s command, “Seek!” And just like that, they were following Cerb’s nose towards their wayward brother. Ducking through alley ways, five fully grown men followed one dog to an older building three clicks away from their original pos, much closer than even Ray had posited when thinking of a potential location for Clay’s nest. Cerb let out a mighty bark at the entry point and raced inside, dragging Brock along for the ride. Standing in the doorway, Brock let out a low whistle and distantly heard Ray praying underneath his breath. 

Somehow the Kid found himself in the most damnable situations, like the fucking roof collapsing on top of him while he was too focused in on a sight. Scrambling up the rickety stairs, Trent found himself face to face with a literal wood pile, beams sticking out every which way and dust clouding the portion of the upper floor that hadn’t collapsed. Of all the places for Spenser to choose for his nest, he found one of the few structurally unstable buildings in the whole damn city. Just his luck. 

Cerb stood in the doorway before her nimble feet led her to the opposite edge of the room where the debris was concentrated and barked, cocking her head when Brock didn’t automatically respond with a treat. She had done her job, now it was time for the humans to do theirs, she just hoped that they got the silly pup out of this mess soon, he carried the good treats and was sure to always give her more belly rubs than her human normally allowed. 

* * *

Clay heard footsteps around him and for a split-second thought that this was the end and just as he reached for his comms, he heard  _ something _ ; almost like nails. Clay tried to steady his own breathing and listen over the dull roar of his pulse in his ears when the sound registered in his mind. That was Cerberus. “I’m here! Sonny! Trent! Jay! Please get me out, please!” Clay’s voice broke and cracked and the tears that had abated came back in a flood of emotion. All around him things were shifting over him and when the beams over his face lifted, all he could do was stare.

“Clay! Hey, look at me kid, you with me?”

“Trent? I can leave now?” Clay made to get up now that the beam that hovered over his chest was lifted, but he was met with a firm hand in the middle of his chest and then all thoughts of freedom flew out his head and left behind the agonizing burning on his left side. Curling in on himself, Clay forced himself to breathe and ignore the shouts above him, it wasn’t like he could answer any questions if he couldn’t breathe.

“It’s ok Clay, it’s ok, just breathe, here open your mouth, that’s it, deep breaths.” Trent coached him as he held his inhaler to his lips, hoping it would ease his breathing just a little bit. When he finally calmed, Trent took a better look at the Kid, noting the swelling of his left shoulder, evident through the thin shirt that was already half torn off his body.  _ Definitely a broken clavicle _ , he thought to himself, preparing a healthy dose of morphine to control his pain.  _ Probably a dose of haldol too, _ he thought ruefully to himself as he stuck Clay and watched his face to see the effect of the medication. When his eyes fluttered shut, he took stock of Clay’s other injuries, cursing lowly underneath his breath. 

Nothing bleeding, that he could see anyways. Nothing sticking out and all four limbs still attached. Hell, there wasn’t even a bruise, all of the beams had fallen just  _ so _ and didn’t hit him directly. Remembering Clay’s concern, he tugged the leg of his jeans up and saw that what Clay thought was something ‘crawling’ on his leg was the stone foundation of the house rocking against his legs when he moved. Trent sighed and filed those away, if they weren’t life threatening he didn’t care about them, yet.

“Trent,” Jason said quietly from behind his shoulder. He hadn’t said anything during the assessment, but Trent hadn’t given any orders. Clay was still lying on the floor and the rest of Bravo was starting to get antsy just sitting there staring at the Kid. 

Trent sighed and looked at Jason ruefully. “Lucky son of a bitch, looks like a broken clavicle, if he can fight through the med we can get to exfil on time.” Jason clapped his hand on his shoulder and went to fill TOC in while Sonny and Ray tried to haul Clay upright without putting more stress on his shoulder. 

“Hey, hey Blondie, Kid, you gotta work with us here,” Sonny grunted, manhandling him into a seated position and tapping his cheek. When he opened one eye blearily, Sonny waited for him to meet his gaze. “You and I are gonna walk to exfil, it’s only two clicks. Think you can do that?”

Clay nodded, not wanting to open his mouth for fear that something stupid would come flying out or that he would accidentally tell someone just how  _ much _ pain he was in at the moment. He had already made himself look like a fool, no need to add a wuss to that list. 

“You gonna pass out on me?” Sonny couldn’t help but double check but he wasn’t exactly expecting a truthful answer.

Clay just glared, took a deep breath, and heaved himself up wobbling slightly and headed towards the door completely missing the knowing glances shared between Trent and Brock. 

It might have taken them all slightly longer than normal, but all six men and one pup made it onto the helo and strapped into the jump seats each with one eye peeled on Clay who was remarkably silent.

“Trent,” Clay said amidst the quiet chatter, not wanting to bring attention to himself. He was getting that familiar feeling again, the one of not being able to move for fear that the walls would somehow start to move in closer and closer and closer. It didn’t make sense, he knew where he was; it was comfortable, familiar even, this shouldn’t be happening.

Trent popped his head up and took stock of what was happening before walking over to Clay trying to be as unobtrusive as possible if only to save face for the Kid. The straps of the sling combined with the straps of the seatbelt and the close quarters they were sharing probably were contributing to the anxiety that Clay was fighting. “Hey, what’s going on? You good?”

“Any way you can get me out of here?” Clay whispered, letting his head thunk against the wall of the helo.

“Same feeling as before?”

“Not as bad, but there, I just, I don’t know what’s wrong here, I’m fine. It’s not the first time I’ve broken a bone or been stuck in a hole like that and I’m still feeling freaked out.”

Trent hid his surprise at how forthright Clay was being, not wanting to spook him into shutting his mouth. He knew that he would have to tread carefully, Clay was like Sonny. Any suggestion that he wasn’t as tough as a SEAL should be would not be accepted well. At all. 

“Have you ever had problems with tight spaces before?” Trent asked without a hint of judgement. There were a lot of things that were left out of the health history that Clay had submitted in his first week on Bravo but Trent hadn’t wanted to push him too much as tensions were already high enough without adding any more stress. He got what he needed at the moment and from that moment on he had been filing little things away. Hopefully this was just another little thing to note about Clay Spenser.

“Uh yeah, as a kid. Got stuck in a closet for a while and panicked, Ash wasn’t too happy about that one,” Clay snorted.

Now Trent was almost positive that there was significantly  _ more _ to that story than Clay was saying, but it wasn’t his place to comment on his shitty childhood; Brock would be a better person to talk to Clay about that particular topic. 

“I’m sure, but there are ways we can manage this, Clay. It’s a phobia, just like Sonny’s fear of sharks, and jungles, and spiders, and well, really a lot of things. When we get back stateside we can work on it together, just the two of us.”

“I can beat this shit?” Clay spat out, not liking the sinking sensation in his stomach that he was yet again inadequate.

“ _ We _ can beat this, I’ll get you some tricks to overcome the anxiety and you’ll be good to go, you just have to remember to actually use them when you need to, even if it means taking a second before ramming your hard head in without thinking.”

Clay chuckled and Trent felt himself relax a little into the seat. The anxiety written on Clay’s face had eased and he looked calmer. “I can try and think more, but someone’s gonna have to remind me of other ways to use my ‘hard head’.”

“Oh I can do that one, try and relax as much as you can, sleep if you can. It’s right to base medic when we get back, I want x-rays of that shoulder.” He waited for Clay to nod his head and put his headphones on before sitting down in his original seat next to Brock. 

“What was that all about?” Brock asked quietly, never taking his eyes off of the book that he was reading. 

“The Kid runs into any situation, literally laughs in the face of danger like a crazy person and the only fear he does have is because his fucking father locked him in a closet. Give me one good reason why I can’t rip the bastard’s balls off,” Trent growled, searching for his field notebook. 

“First of all, you’re making assumptions. Until you hear the words come out of his mouth it isn’t confirmed and you can’t take any action without undeniable proof.” He turned the page and waited for Trent to settle.

Trent deflated with a sigh and came back down to Earth. As usual Brock was the voice of reason when his temper got the best of him. “I know, but the signs are everywhere and there’s only so much I can ignore before I have to ask the questions.”

“Trent, I know you have to ask and you want to protect him, but I’m telling you, it’s going to be much better if Clay tells us, we just have to be patient for a bit longer.”

“And what do we do in the meantime?”

“Be his brothers, care for him, show him what family is supposed to look like while trying to keep his dumb ass alive long enough for Em to skin him when we get home for doing something risky. Again.”

Trent was silent and for a moment, Brock was happy that his brother was like him; they both needed time to process things and act rationally instead of with the blind rage that Sonny and Clay frequented. 

“When Clay does tell us, can I beat the shit out of the asshole?”

“If Cerb doesn’t beat you to it, I’m game,” Brock snapped back and just like that there was a plan to follow and a problem to work. 

Good thing they had plenty of practice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Leave me a comment about things you'd like to see for 'D' and your favorite part of this chapter!


	4. Delirious Dipshit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They boys were silent staring at Clay’s labored breathing in their makeshift hospital bed. They were used to a healthy sense of danger in every OP that they went on, but when Trent said an injury was dangerous, it meant that it was fatal, or at the very least, deadly.  
> “Boys, I do not appreciate being woken up for a cold,” Blackburn said, storming into the barracks still in his pajamas.  
> “It’s not a cold, Eric.”  
> “Do we need to be concerned here Trent?”  
> “You mean for him or for the rest of us?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a LONG one, grab a drink and buckle up for another adventure!

As Clay waded down the river bank, he had never been so grateful that the majority of his gear was waterproof and insulated him enough that he couldn’t quite feel the frigid temperature of the water rushing around his thighs. Every step that he made forwards felt like ten steps backwards and the boy that he was trying to save cried out in terror. 

“Date raho! Main lagabhag vahaan hoon!” he called out in Hindi. _He was almost there, hang on kid, don’t let go_. 

From the corner of his eye he could see Jason spotting his movements from higher on the riverbank, ready to come grab him the second he made contact with the kid. A scoop and drag wasn’t the most grateful maneuver, but it would be the easiest way to return the kid to the family that they had rescued not two hours earlier from a series of mudslides. He would never understand how they could just _appear_ , the weather in this part of the world changed as often as Sonny went through women when they were stateside. Looping his guide rope around the little boy, he sent the ‘ok’ signal up to Jason and the little guy close to his chest. His mother had told him that he was almost nine, but with how small he was, Clay would have put him around Jameelah’s age. He was shivering and coughing weakly into his neck, and his heart broke. 

No matter how old he got, Clay still remembered the children that they brought into the orphanage that his grandparents worked in. Thin, scared, sick, each of their faces propelled him to do good in the world and hope that one day he would get to bring one home for real. For the moment, bringing this little boy back to his mother would have to do until he and Emma could execute that particular plan. 

Clay felt the various hands of his brothers and let them strip the boy from his chest. The boy cried out and Clay was quick to hold him close again, soothing him as best he could while trying to walk steadily to where his family was waiting. The boy coughed again and Clay held him, patting his back and swaying, partly to soothe the child and partly because it was hard to stay on his feet. Waving off the mother’s offer of money, he walked back to his brothers.

He was far past due for a shower, a hot meal, and a phone call with his girl. Hopefully all three would happen tonight, but if not, he’d settle for the shower and a pillow. All that mud was starting to dry and Clay had a very firm stance that mud doesn’t belong in a man’s shorts as much as Sonny begged to differ. 

But that was a story for a different night. 

* * *

* * *

Waking up on an OP was always a dangerous game. Sometimes he woke up thinking that he was still in bed with Emma, that was an embarrassing one, and other times he woke up on VA time and he had to sit around twiddling his thumbs until someone else woke up, but that was the best. It meant uninterrupted time to call Emma without someone listening in and yet again, embarrassing him.

He loved his brothers, but for once would like to look smooth in front of his girl.

This was neither one of those scenarios.

It was later than he normally woke up, judging by the sounds of Sonny and Ray bickering over who’s turn it was to give Cerb a bath and Jason arguing with Mandy over their exfil plan. Clay forced himself to sit up in his bunk and tried to swallow through the razor blades that had seemingly taken residence in his throat. Choking on the bit of saliva, Clay coughed and spluttered. No one seemed to pay him any mind and, feeling his chest tighten, Clay reached for his spare inhaler and breathed through the pain in his throat before taking the standard dose. 

Clearing his throat, Clay tried to make his voice work. “Trent,” he groaned, flopping back down onto his mattress. He was too tired to try and make it seem like he wasn’t feeling just as bad as he looked and he didn’t care what Trent made him do as long as it made him feel somewhat human again. 

* * *

* * *

Trent was repacking his kit and trying to unobtrusively eavesdrop on Jason’s conversation with Mandy. He had a bet going with Brock that something would happen between the two of them before the end of their deployment and it looked like he was right. There was no way that Jason would smile that big on an OP that had been shot to hell and back if someone wasn’t making him feel all the warm and fuzzy things that Sonny liked to pretend didn’t exist. 

Doing a quick check in his mind, he ran through all of his brothers. Jason was doing just fine, sitting across the table from him flirting like he was a teenager again. Brock was out for a run with Cerb, but he was fine. He wouldn’t have endangered Cerb if he thought that he wasn’t going to make it through his run no matter how stir crazy he was getting. Ray and Sonny were exercising their lungs just fine outside, complaining about the mud that was bound to be on Cerb and who exactly was going to give the pooch a bath. Clay was… Where the hell was Clay?

Trent scanned the room quickly, hoping that the Kid didn’t find himself in another adventure. He didn’t think that his heart could take another adventure this OP, not after his stunt of wading through a raging river of mud during a mudslide. 

That was quite enough action for one OP, thank you very much. 

When he spotted his curly blonde head still on his pillow, he heaved a sigh of relief before a niggle of worry creeped into the back of his head. Clay didn’t sleep in, he was a notoriously bad sleeper on OP, either waking too early or falling asleep too late. It was a nightmare to try and get him to sleep for more than an hour or two at a time and yet, he was knocked on his ass for more than six hours. 

_Maybe his little adventure tired him out more than he thought_ , Trent tried to reassure himself. _Clay would come get him if something was wrong_ , _he knew better_. When the Kid popped his head, he breathed a sigh of relief that he was ambulatory, but that sigh quickly stuttered in his chest. 

Clay needed him. 

* * *

* * *

The pillow was simultaneously too cold and too hot for Clay to be comfortable. He was sure that he wasn’t running a fever but there was something going on that was making him feel like a shit.

It couldn’t be strep, he had his tonsil out as a kid. It definitely wasn’t the flu, he had gotten vaccinated over a month ago, long enough to build up immunity to whatever tropical flu that Trent insisted was present and that he needed for the OP. Wasn’t a sinus infection because he could pick his head up without feeling like he was going to fall over. Whatever it was, it was time to call Trent.

Trent would figure it out, he already could tell that he was making his way towards him. His heavy steps a familiar cadence that Clay could pick out of a parade if necessary. Peeling open his eyes, Clay tried to focus on Trent’s face but he didn’t want to have the room spin any more than it already was with his eyes closed. 

“Kid, what’s going on? You sick?”

Clay nodded, swallowing harshly again. “I think so,” he said lowly, not wanting to set off another coughing fit because he felt like he couldn’t swallow his own spit. 

“Alright, let’s get you up,” Trent sighed. They had been so close to making it through an OP without an injury. Granted getting sick wasn’t something that Clay could exactly control, but he’d bet money that crawling through muddy waters didn’t help anything. He was just so … _stubborn_ sometimes. But then again with Jason Hayes as an example, there really wasn’t much of a doubt on how he’d turn out in the future.

Clay tried his best to walk in a straight line, but judging by the subtle hand on his shoulder he wasn’t doing the best job. He let himself flop into the chair that Trent had vacated, content that it was at least in the direction of the fan that they had brought into the barracks. Summer in India was beautiful, but hot as all get out and his shirt was already sticking to his overheated body.

“Trent,” Jason barked over his shoulder. The kid was hardly sitting upright when twelve hours earlier he was joking and playing darts with Sonny on the makeshift board in the corner. “What the hell?”

“I don’t know, a bug of some sort? Clay. Clay, look at me,” he said patiently, waiting for his eyes to settle on his face long enough to focus. “What hurts?”

“Just my throat,” Clay grunted out. “Feels like I can’t swallow, used the inhaler already.”

“Inhaler?”

“Felt like I couldn’t get a deep breath, worked fine,” Clay reassured him. Trent got prickly when he mentioned that he needed his rescue meds. Best to get in front of it instead of letting Trent catch him sneaking doses, less headaches that way.

“Alright, let me take a look. Open up.”

Clay let him poke and prod as much as he wanted, content that he was safe in Trent’s capable hands. “What’s the verdict Trent?”

“You caught a cold Kid, bad luck,” Trent said, snapping off his gloves. He reached for the trusty liquid gels and shook three into his palm. “Take these now and go shower up, try and get some of the sweat off then I want your ass in bed for the rest of the day. Come and get me if it gets worse.”

“You got it.” Clay dry swallowed the meds and stood up, waiting for a second to get his balance before heading towards the showers, shower caddy in hand. He had the bright idea to take his inhaler with him, just in case he needed it. Being caught naked and not able to breathe wasn’t a situation that he was ready to relive just yet.

The mid morning sun felt nice on his face but every couple of feet, Clay stopped to catch his breath and with fumbling fingers tried to reach his inhaler, missing Sonny and Ray standing by the door of the barracks. By the time he made it into the showers, he was again out of breath but determined to try and follow orders. A nap sounded nice right about now. 

* * *

* * *

“What on God’s green Earth is wrong with ‘im?” Sonny said around his toothpick. Clearly the Kid was sick, but why was he running off half cocked to try and shower when he was wobblier than a newborn foal.

“He’s got a cold, Trent must’ve already checked him out if he’s heading towards the showers. Jason would wring his neck if he didn’t,” Ray mused carefully. He didn’t like how unsteady he seemed, but if Trent had said that it was alright to go… well then the Kid was following orders and he didn’t get a say. 

“You don’t like it?” Sonny questioned as quietly as he was able. 

“Not at all,” he responded, sighing. _Somehow,_ Ray thought to himself, _tonight is going to be a very long night_. Shoving the bucket into Sonny’s arms, Ray effectively settled who was going to give Cerb his bath and moved inside to try and form some plan for the rest of the night. Sonny could suck it up for one day.

* * *

* * *

The rest of the day passed slowly, with Clay dozing on and off in his bunk and the rest of the boys settled in; no one was moving with a man down, especially one that liked to disappear when you took your eyes off of him for a minute. When he finally woke from his nap, they were all relieved to see some more clarity in his gaze, but his cheeks were still flushed and he swayed slightly. His phone rang on the table where it was charging and he fumbled to answer the familiar tone of a facetime, smiling when Emma’s face popped up on his screen.

“Hey Em, how are ya?”

“That’s Em? What are you doing hogging her over there Blondie! Sunshine you don’t wanna see his ugly mug over mine, do ya?” Sonny hollered out, a grin spreading across his face at Clay’s blush.

“Hi Uncle Sonny, is everyone there?”

“We’re all here Emma,” Jason replied, his own chest loosening at the sight of his daughter, safe and sound in her bedroom. “Is everything ok?”

“Yeah everything’s fine dad, I’m just following the schedule,” Emma replied, laughing slightly. 

“The schedule?”

“It’s my night to call in, but you weren’t answering so I figured that I would try Clay, good thing he knows to pick up his phone,” Emma teased.

“I think it’s a good thing that we were all here and didn’t miss a check in again,” Clay said, not so subtly cutting off another retort from Jason. Sometimes they acted more like siblings than father and daughter, but when they started to argue it was worse than two little kids. 

“Are you guys all set to finish up? If you’re all back in time Aunt Naima’s gonna bring the kids down to the beach to watch some of the fireworks.”

Catching Jason’s small nod from the corner of his eye, Clay smiled at Emma on the small screen and opened his mouth, but no words came out. His throat seized up and a short, barky cough erupted, leaving the entire area silent.

“Clay? What was that? You didn’t say that you were sick?”

“I’m fine, Em. Trent said that I caught a little bug, he’s already checked me out.”

“I did Em,” Trent reassured her from the corner. He had checked him out, but that cough sure as hell wasn’t something that he reported in the initial eval. 

Which meant it was new, and he was presenting with new symptoms. 

There was no way that the Kid would have left a symptom out on purpose.

And a barky cough wasn’t consistent with a cold. 

At all.

Glaring at Jason from across the room, he looked pointedly at the phone and then at the door. He wanted to re-examine Clay without any prying eyes looking at him but without alarming Emma. 

When Jason nodded at him, Trent stood up and gathered his kit, marching to the back of the room to Clay’s bunk, setting up shop.

“Hey Kid, you mind if I talk to Em for a bit?” 

“Yeah sure.” He passed the phone to Jason and turned around, intent on going back to bed when he was met with Brock and Ray’s shoulders. 

“Trent wants to check me out again, doesn’t he?”

“You bet your ass I do, Kid. Strip down and get back here, and this time don’t leave anything out.” Trent hollered at him, angry that there was something that either he missed or that Clay left out.

* * *

* * *

Clay sat shivering on the makeshift hospital bed that Trent had created for him, clad only in his boxers while Trent examined him. “Trent, it’s a cough. I don’t know why you’re freaking out, I thought I just had a cold,” he complained, swallowing hesitantly.

“Because Clay,” Trent said as patiently as he could manage, “A cold does not give you a cough like that, and a cold would not make you this feverish.” He had to have explained this concept over and over to him, but it was clearly not sinking into his thick skull. 

“Then what the hell is this Trent?” Jason asked from behind his shoulder. They weren’t exactly in a part of the world where medical attention was easy to come by or good enough to trust. 

“I don't know. Clay, get dressed, we gotta hit the infirmary.”

“What? No.”

Trent just raised his eyebrow at him, sure that he wasn’t going to give him any trouble. It was well documented that with anything medical, what he said went, no matter what. 

“I’m not sick enough to go to the infirmary, nothing they would do for me there is different from what you would do for me here.”

“Kid’s got a point, Trent,” Jason said quietly. He wasn’t a fan of sending his men to the infirmary when they could be taken care of in quarters. And it would be just his luck that the Kid would go missing right before they were supposed to be stateside for more than a day.

“You’re staying in that bed, Clay. You are getting that IV and you are going to take every medication that I give you and if at any point I think you need more medical attention you are going to the damn infirmary. Do you understand?” Trent hated being overridden, but realistically, they’re leaving in twelve hours. Anything the Kid was sick with was going to be coming home with them whether they liked it or not. “You’re getting a nebulizer treatment too, I don’t like the sound of that cough.”

“Yeah Trent, do your worst,” Clay responded, happy that he wasn’t going to be moving from his bed any time soon. Closing his eyes, he settled down to get a few more hours of shut eye. By the time they were going to be ready to fly home, he wasn’t going to want to sleep anymore, might as well get it while he could. 

* * *

* * *

Jason isn’t sure what makes his eyes spring open. He was having quite the pleasant dream about a sun filled day on a beach with Mandy that he didn’t want to leave just yet, but now he was awake and the image of her on that beach was slowly fading away. 

The room was dark, and he counted five individual sets of snores sound off in the tin can that they’ve turned into a barrack. The base around them was quiet. Everything was fine, but there had to be something _off_ for him to have woken so suddenly. He strained his ears, trying to remain calm when he heard it. 

A _whimper_. 

Springing out of his bunk, he crept towards Clay’s bunk in the center of the room. Trent had insisted that he was to remain in full view of everyone and for once, Jason is glad that he gave into one of Trent’s more outlandish requests. Clay is twisting and turning in his bed, covers tangled at his feet. Even in the lowlight of the moon glinting through the window, he can make out the sweat beading on his forehead. 

“Trent, up and at ‘em,” he whisper yelled as he passed, effectively waking up the entirety of the room. No one called for Trent in the middle of the night if they were fine.

“Kid, kid, wake up,” Jason said, jostling his shoulder none too gently. They all had nightmares, it wasn’t something that was discussed, but no one wanted to see any of their brothers suffer needlessly through them.

“No! I said no, leave me alone! No! Dad!”

“Clay, it’s Jason, your dad’s not here,” he soothed, feeling more frustrated when he couldn’t get the Kid to wake up.

“Please! I didn’t do it!”

“What the hell is going on?” Ray exclaimed, turning on the light in the small room. It was one thing to be woken up roughly for an OP, but another when there was no danger to be found.

“Clay’s having a nightmare, can’t wake him up. Trent, he’s hot.”

“Alright, let me try,” Trent said, pushing his brothers out of the way. “Clay, come on wake up, it’s ok, you’re ok, wake up.” He shook his shoulders and when Clay’s vibrant blue eyes popped open, they were glazed heavily and stared unseeingly into his face. “You with me Clay?”

“No, I didn’t do it! I promise I didn’t! Please keep him away from me,” Clay whimpered, clutching onto Trent’s shoulders. 

“Keep who away? It's just us in here, Jason, Ray, Sonny, Brock.”

“Ash’s here, keep him away from me, please!”

“Trent, what is this?” Ray asked, hands shaking at his sides.

“I think he’s delirious, thinks that Jace is Ash.”

The room fell silent, no one daring to make eye contact with Jason. Clay laid back, pushing himself further into his sheets and refusing to make eye contact made all of their blood boil, but arguing over why Clay thought Jason was Ash Spenser wasn’t going to be productive. 

“I’m getting some air,” Jason grit out. Ray tried to call out after him, but didn’t move from his spot next to Trent. Jason would be fine until they got this situation under control. Brooding wouldn’t hurt anything but his pride.

“So Blondie’s got his brain scrambled and thinks that boss man is his no good daddy, he know who the rest of us are?”

“I don’t know, we’ll find out,” he muttered, taking out his kit for what felt like the hundredth time that evening. “Clay? You know who I am?”

“‘S he gone?”

“Yeah little buddy, he’s gone. It’s just me, do you know who I am?”

“What about me Blondie? Sure as hell can’t forget me,” Sonny piped up from the corner, fiddling with the hem of his shirt.

“Son? Don’t let Ash back in ok? I don’t want him in here, promise me that Sonny,” Clay babbled, thrashing back and forth on the bed, eyes slipping shut.

“I won’t but are you gonna let my friend Trent here take a look at ya? You’re sweating worse than a sinner in church over there.”

Clay peeled his eyes open and searched for something in Trent’s face before nodding and flopping back onto the pillow. Given the ok, Trent sprang into action and whipped out the thermometer, swiping it across his forehead before he was even fully settled against the pillow. 

“Shit.”

“What? What is it?” Ray questioned, hand on his tense shoulder.

“Fever’s pushing 105.”

“So we have to cool him down, right?” Ray slipped right into mission mode, ready to tackle the latest obstacle that had been thrown their way. 

“I’ll see if Davis can find some ice,” Brock said, moving towards the door. It would be hard to find at this time of night but if there was anyone that could do it, it would be Lisa Davis. She’d find them snow in the desert if Trent needed it, no questions asked. While they waited for Brock, Trent and Ray managed to get Clay out of the sweaty sheets and into a chair, although it was a battle and a half to get him to cooperate. 

“Clay, I need you to listen to me ok? Trent’s going to reattach your IV, but he ain’t gonna hurt you, ya hear?”

“Son, why is Ash here? Why am I so cold?”

“You’re sick as a dog, just hang on tight, alright. I’ve gotcha brother.”

By the time that Brock burst through the door again with Davis and ice in tow, Clay was swaying in his seat, coughing pitifully. It takes all four of them to get him settled back into his bunk and Davis carefully packs his sides with ice pack after ice pack before he settles to sleep again, but it’s clear that none of them are going to be getting sleep anytime soon. Not after this. 

“Trent, what the hell was that?” Jason paced like a caged lion from the door to Clay’s bunk. “He thinks I’m _Ash?_ ”

“I have no idea, Jason. It literally could be anything, he’s feverish, delirious. Obviously he has some sort of viral infection that’s causing the croup, but I couldn’t tell you how he got croup of all things as an adult. His breathing’s getting worse and we’re in a country where I wouldn’t trust Cerb in their medical care. I have no idea, I have nothing.”

“So what do we do?” Brock questioned from his place at Clay’s bedside.

“We wait, and hope like hell I don’t have to intubate him and that his fever breaks and that I figure out what the fuck this is in time to do something about it.”

* * *

* * *

The next time that Clay wakes, it’s clear that his fever hasn’t broken at all. His gaze is still unfocused. “Shannon, where are you? Shannon!”

“Who the fuck is Shannon?” Jason growled. 

“Brother, easy. He doesn’t even know who he is right now, I’m sure there’s an explanation.”

“Ray, the only name that should ever come outta his mouth is Emma, and I cannot believe those words just came out of my mouth.”

“Can you ladies leave that little tiff for another day and help me turn the kid? You can bicker over whose name he should be moaning when he knows who Jason Hayes is again,” Sonny said, replacing the melted ice packs with fresh ones.

“Sonny, make sure Shannon is ok, please. She’s gotta be ok, don’t let Ash get to her.”

“I won’t Clay, don’t worry. Clay, do you remember my friend Trent?”

“I know Trent, he’s my brother.”

“Good, he wants to check you out again, ok? You’re looking a little green around the gills. Can he do that while you take this inhaler again?”

Clay nodded and sat upright while depressing the barrel of the inhaler. It made his chest feel a lot better but he couldn’t help but cough as the mist touched the back of his throat.

“Both of you stop arguing and let me work. Clay, can you open your mouth for me? I wanna take a quick peek.” Trent was hoping that all of this nonsense was being caused by an abscess somewhere. An infected molar could cause the fever, barky cough, and sore throat. 

He should have known that he wasn’t going to get that lucky.

Clay opened his mouth and Trent felt every single ounce of self control flow out of him and he fought to keep himself from screaming. 

On the very back of Clay’s throat was a gray discoloration that was thick and viscous, partially obstructing his airway.

This is very, very bad, 

“Trent?”

“Yeah Brock,” he muttered distractedly, taking Clay’s heart rate again, hoping that he was wrong, and that this wasn’t happening. 

“This isn’t good is it?”

“No this is really fucking bad. Clay, Clay look at me. Need to ask you some questions, can you do that?”

“Whaddya need?”

“When you were a kid, did you get any shots? Anything you can remember, a doctor’s visit, going to a clinic?”

“No, no, you only saw the doc when you were too sick. I had everything as a baby, but I don’t, I can’t remember.”

“When you went through basic, did they give you anything?”

Clay shook his head and coughed again, gasping. 

“Ok, that’s ok, you just rest Clay ok? I’m right here, try and go back to sleep.”

Trent waited until he was sure that Clay had fallen back asleep and looked Jason in the eyes, face pale and palms sweaty. “You need to get Eric and Davis in here, now.”

Jason nodded and moved for the door, not bothering to ask any more questions. Trent didn’t often sound the alarms for everyone, but when he did… it was bad.

* * *

* * *

“Brother, what is this? And don’t you dare say that it’s nothing you can’t handle, you don’t lose your shit for just anything.”

“Ray,” Trent sighed. “I think, _think_ , that somehow the kid caught diphtheria.”

“Sounds like a bad name for a chick,” Sonny ground out, not liking the defeated tone that Trent carried in his voice.

“It’s not, Son. It’s really fucking dangerous.”

They boys were silent staring at Clay’s labored breathing in their makeshift hospital bed. They were used to a healthy sense of danger in every OP that they went on, but when Trent said an injury was dangerous, it meant that it was fatal, or at the very least, deadly.

“Boys, I do not appreciate being woken up for a cold,” Blackburn said, storming into the barracks still in his pajamas.

“It’s not a cold, Eric.” 

“Do we need to be concerned here Trent?”

“You mean for him or for the rest of us?” Trent couldn't help but scoff. Of course Clay would find a way to get a highly contagious disease while they were all packed in tighter than a can of sardines.

“Give me both, Trent. Don’t soft ball it for me.”

“Yes and no. We all got boosters for this as kids, and apparently he didn’t and lost all of the antibodies.”

“How’d he get it then Trent?” Jason asked from his perch on the bunk next to Clay, making sure to keep himself out of view, just in case the Kid woke up again. 

“It’s common in this part of the world, the kid he rescued yesterday was hacking up a lung on him, but it really could have come from anyone.”

They all watched Eric pace back and forth. It never failed that they had some sort of calamity where they couldn’t do anything but watch the kid suffer. “What do you need to keep him safe?”

“Send Davis out to get the antitoxin, they should have it in a clinic, no matter how rural we are right now. It’s gonna cost, Eric,” Trent warned. Most people couldn’t afford the vaccine, but even less could afford the treatment if they ever were infected. That was the whole reason why the death rate from vaccine preventable illnesses was so high in those countries, but that didn’t matter right now. 

Blackburn would make sure that he got it, no one was going to let Clay die. Not now, not ever. 

“The infirmary on base probably has an oxygen tank, I want to put him on fifteen liters until we get the antitoxin. While you’re at it, some more IV bags and any liquid Tylenol that you can find. I just want to keep him comfortable.”

“Alright, hang tight boys.”

* * *

* * *

The rest of the night passed in silence, each man listening intently to Clay breathing harshly in the middle of the room. He never woke, but Trent didn’t stray from his side. With every labored breath that he took, Trent felt another knife stick into his back. The Kid had done everything that they asked of him, reported every symptom, didn’t try to hide anything and yet he was still on his ass because Trent couldn’t do his damn job. He should have pushed harder, thought more when he was examining him. He _knows_ that Clay didn’t get medical care as a child, why would he assume that he got vaccinated for everything under the sun.

“You look like shit, Trent.”

“Thanks Brock, way to kick a man when he’s down.”

“Wanna tell me why you’re sitting in the dark beating yourself up when you saved his life?”

Sometimes he hated that Brock knew him so damn well, he could never hide anything. “I’m sitting in the dark because Clay is sleeping and I don’t want to wake him.”

“OK, now answer the second part of that question.”

“I’m not beating myself up, Brock.” He didn’t know why he was trying to evade his brother, but he didn’t want to talk about it right now. Not when there were so many uncertainties, when they weren’t sure if his airway was going to continue to remain stable or if Davis was going to get the antitoxin or if they would be able to keep Clay comfortable on the long flight home. 

“That’s bullshit and you know it Trent. You look like Cerb when I tell her that she can’t have a treat. What’s going on?”

“I dismissed him, this morning. Told him he had a cold and didn’t look into anything further. I should have known better.”

“You told him he had a cold, because it looked like he had a cold. How the hell were you supposed to know that he didn’t get a booster? His medical files are still sealed and Clay isn’t exactly the most forthright when you ask him about his childhood. You treated the symptoms. No one expects the field medic to be a doctor, Trent.”

Trent is quiet for a moment. After everything that they’ve been through together, he’s patched up every single one of his brothers from burns to bullet wounds to stabbings and slashes and never once blinked. But at the end of the day, he wasn’t a doctor, wasn’t trained to know all of the infectious diseases. His brothers trusted him and he wouldn’t let them down again, even if he had to read every medical tome on the planet.

“When we get stateside again, I’m dragging him to the Emergency Department and he’s getting every single lab panel that I can think of and every vaccine series that I can get my hands on. I don’t care what the Kid says.”

“I don’t think he’ll have a choice, Cerb’ll sit on him if he tries to get away.”

“Hell, I want every single person to get their physical, blood tests, the works. This was preventable and we’re not going on another OP until I’m sure we have everyone squared away. I mean it Brock!”

“You got it brother, we gotta start putting things on the chopper. You good with him?”

“Yeah, yeah I’ll bring the kit with me when we load up. Davis should be back any minute with the antitoxin.”

Brock nodded and left him alone with Clay, they were trying to get the hell out of dodge and it was all hands on deck when they were down two men. 

By the time they got Clay onto the chopper, Trent was ready to pull his hair out. Of course, Clay was irritated, sick as hell. He didn’t want to move and the fact that Trent was making him made for an unruly patient. Once he was settled with Ray standing guard, Trent stood in front of the opening to the chopper, anxiously awaiting Davis’ return. He would delay take off if they didn’t get this antitoxin. No way was he taking an unstable patient in the air if they didn’t have to, not when they didn’t have the capacity to mechanically ventilate a patient for sixteen plus hours, if he could even get a tube down in the first place. And the other option wasn’t even an option. 

Trent didn’t even want to think about a situation that would require him giving one of his brothers a tracheostomy. His heart stuttered in his chest at the thought and he quickly cleared his mind of the notion. They weren’t there yet and they wouldn’t go there, Davis was on her way with the antitoxin. _Positive thinking here Sawyer_ , he rebuked himself gently.

“Trent!” Lisa called, out of breath, just barely making it into the chopper in time. “I got the damn thing. Said you gotta inject it, and, it’s gonna,” Lisa panted, bending over at the waist, trying to catch her breath.

“I got it, Lisa. Sonny!”

“What? Is it Clay? What do you need?” Sonny barreled forwards from the back of the plane, twang more evident in his voice as the fear bled through. 

“Take Lisa and get her calmed down, can you do that?”

Sonny nodded and placed his hand on her lower back, leading her to the hammocks. “You heard the man, little lady. Let’s go take some of those nice, deep breaths you’re always yammerin’ on about.”

With that crisis successfully averted, Trent looked at the small vial in his hands and laughed to himself. Sonny was taking care of Lisa and wouldn’t be looking over his shoulder while he gave a very large injection into Clay’s ass. 

This was going to be so fun. 

Sighing, Trent stripped the Kid down to his skivvies with a practiced ease and jabbed the needle into his ass. He’d be sore tomorrow, and likely for the next few days after that, but he’d be alive. 

That’s all anyone could ask for.

* * *

* * *

By the time they manage to get to the Emergency Department, Clay’s breathing had improved dramatically and Trent can breathe a bit easier. Emma was waiting for them with Naima by her side and not even Jason had the heart to turn her away. They all needed a little bit of comfort after that clusterfuck. 

Normally Trent would leave any sort of interference in Clay and Emma’s relationship to Sonny or Jason, but he couldn’t help but stick his nose in just a little bit. “Hey Em, gotta ask you a question and I don’t want you to get mad.”

“What is it?”

“You know anyone named Shannon?” Trent ignored all of the looks and elbows that were being sent his way and focused on Emma. She didn’t look _mad_ , if anything she was upset? Not the response he was expecting. 

“He was calling for Shannon?”

“Sunshine, the boy was delirious, you can’t take anything he said against him,” Sonny rushed out, trying to smooth any ruffled feathers. 

“Yeah, kept trying to make sure that I’d protect her, you know anything about that?”

“Shannon’s his mother. I’m surprised he was even talking about her, you’re sure he said Shannon?”

“I had no idea,” Jason said, hanging his head. They focused too much on Ash to even remember that it took two to tango and Clay didn’t have the mother of the year either. “He was calling out for her-”

“And y’all automatically assumed it was another woman? I appreciate the sentiment, but you don’t need to protect me. If anything, Clay’s the one that needs guarding from that woman. Now if that’s settled, can I see his chart please?”

Trent tipped his head back and laughed at the forlorn expressions on his brothers’ face. Of course Emma would take no shit and ask for his chart, the girl was really a miniature of her mother, tempered with the patented ‘Jason Hayes’ stubbornness. “You’re turning into me over here Em,” he said, passing over the chart left on the end of the bed. 

“If I manage to be half the medic you are, I’ll know that I did my very best for my patients,” she responded, not looking up to see the tears welling in his eyes.

He was the best and his brothers’ lives depended on that and it was an honor to be able to serve with them.

If only they could get the Kid figured out and he could go back to treating bullet wounds, that was much preferred over infectious diseases any day. 

He knew how to fix those.

He’d figure the rest out on the way, eventually.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Drop me a line if you enjoyed this chapter and if you have any ideas for 'E'!  
> I hope all of you are staying healthy and safe and that this brought a little distraction to your days!


	5. Equine Equilibrium

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is a little lighthearted piece of whump from Clay's rookie days, enjoy!

“Hey there, Blondie’s running like the wind,” Sonny said, gasping between breaths as he closed in on Trent running in front of him. They were all finishing up a brutal morning of training and it didn’t look like the Kid was fazed at all. He was sweating, but he almost looked like he enjoyed running almost as much as Brock.  _ Unnatural,  _ he thought to himself, pushing himself to keep up with the rest of the pack. At least he could take comfort in the fact that Ray Perry hated running as much as he did. If he could keep pace with Ray, then Jason wouldn’t find anything to bitch at him for, not without involving Ray as well. 

“I think he might even be faster than Jason,” Ray agreed, wishing that they were almost finished with this godforsaken exercise. He liked working out like the rest of them, but there was no need to run this hill. “Jay, Kid’s gonna end up beating your record, you good with that?”

Jason didn’t grace him with an answer and it was worth the momentary pain in his abs when Ray let out a laugh that was entirely too cheerful for a day of working out. From his vantage point at the back of the line, he could see Trent in the middle of the pack next to Jason, but Brock had already hightailed it closer to Clay, out of sight. These boys were going to be the death of him, but there was the promise of a nice long shower if he could beat Sonny out for it.  _ Guess it’s time to run faster _ , he thought to himself.  _ Only a little bit further, Perry. Think about that hot shower and a cold beer. You got this.  _

* * *

The faster he ran, the less he had to think about all of the things that tethered him to the ground. The fears that he didn’t want to face, the disappointments that he tried to convince himself didn’t matter. There was the light cadence of his footsteps and the comforting clink of Cerb’s leash as they ran together; one man and a dog against the world. Brock thought that the freedom he felt when he was running allowed him to be as fast as was, not one of his brothers could keep up with him when he had something on his mind, yet Clay had easily outran him by a mile. 

It was strange that they were continuously finding things about their newest brother that he hadn’t thought to tell them about, saying that it wasn’t important. Brock had more questions than answers most of the time, but it was like telling Cerb not to seek after she caught a scent. He wanted to know more and sooner or later he was going to find out. 

“Kid made it to the top,” he hollered, turning his head slightly to watch his brothers’ faces when they realized that their rookie was a track star. He didn’t stop long enough to see more than their initial shock, wanting to get to the top of the damn hill with the Kid. Maybe he’d find something more to say to him other than  _ good morning _ , of all things.

The last leg of their run was the hardest, brutal and punishing, almost a ninety degree angle until it leveled off and just before Brock made the plateau, he stopped short and Cerb let him know her disappointment. 

“Sorry girl,” he said absentmindedly. 

Clay was standing still, but his eyes were unfocused. His face was ashen and the sweat beading on his forehead was … foredboding to say the least. Trying to think of anything that he could say,  _ anything _ at all. But there was nothing. 

The words were stuck in his throat as he watched his brother struggle to stay on his feet and Brock had never felt so useless in his entire life. Not even as the kid no one wanted. 

Clay had spotted him standing still and had shook whatever the hell was going on with him off. “The slowpokes on their way?”

“I heard that Blondie! I’ll have you know that I ain’t no slowpoke! I just got more muscle to move than you and twiggy over here,” Sonny growled, red in the face and, as usual, ignored the entire subtext of a situation. 

“Well, my time’s still intact,” Jason said, taking a sip from the water he had stowed in his pack. “Let’s head back down, hit the showers. Eric’s got something planned for us for the afternoon.”

“Don’t have to tell me twice,” Ray called out, making his way down the hillside, grateful for the fact that it was finally an easier run. The rest of the guys follow, but Brock doesn’t just yet, waiting for Clay to move his feet.

“I’m good brother,” he said, a comforting smile on his face, but Brock didn’t miss the wobble in his stance. Keeping pace with him, Brock steadied him on another tricky pass with a hand to his elbow, trying to think of anything to say that would get Clay to respond truthfully.

And still, there was nothing. 

* * *

For a minute, it was nice to be at the top of the mountain, watching his brothers finish their run to him. He could hear them heckling through rushed breaths and longed for the day when he would be comfortable enough with them to joke like that. If a day ever came. After that one moment, Clay knew that he was wobbling. The world was tilting and whirling, black and gray spots appearing in front of his eyes.

_ Stay on your feet, don’t let them see you falter _ . 

By some miracle, he manages to stay on his feet on the way down, but it isn’t by much. Clay caught Brock staring at him a few times, and his hand on his elbow after another near spill let him know that he wasn’t quite as successful as he wanted to be in hiding his dizziness. But he made it and the warmth of the shower felt damn good. 

No matter how good the water felt pouring down over his shoulders, the fact that he couldn’t close his eyes without feeling like he was going to fall over was not a good feeling and it was taking too damn long for it to go away. Trent had said that it would take time, but really a week later, he still had the damn ringing in his ears. It would be just his luck that an OP that he wasn’t supposed to be on, banished to command after his last fuck up, would land him back in the infirmary. He’d only been drafted a month and he’d seen more of the infirmary than the battle field and he was sick and tired of being relegated to helping Mandy and Blackburn sort through pieces of intel that didn’t make sense. Of course no one blamed him for the IED going off on the edge of the base, but there really wasn’t a way for them to blame anyone. 

It had just happened, but then again a lot of things just happened to find him stuck in the middle. 

Again. 

As Clay rinsed the last of the body wash off of his shoulders, the urge to vomit reared its ugly head.  _ Time to go see Trent _ , he thought ruefully. Maybe he wouldn’t get yelled at if he came to him before he hit the deck. 

Again. 

* * *

Trent was the first in the showers and the first one out of the showers. It didn’t really matter that he wasn’t scrubbing all of the gunk and grime off, not when he knew that Eric was planning something for their afternoon session. He’d take a longer shower when he got home, and hopefully, if he played his cards right, he could convince Darcy to join him. While his other brothers took their obnoxiously long showers, Trent would focus on packing his med kit. After the Kid’s latest scuffle, he ordered some new supplies that he now had to figure out how to pack and store for the inevitable moment that Clay would need it, although lately there seemed to be more and more supplies that Trent never thought he would use while deployed. 

An extra fine set of sutures. He was the only field medic that he knew carried a set of sutures that was anything other than the standard trauma set, but not for Clay. The standard supplies never held onto his skin and in an emergency, Trent didn’t want to have to spend more time making sure that his stitches held when they should be getting out of whatever hellhole they were in at the moment. 

A bottle of extra-strength ibuprofen, in liquid gel form. Again, another thing that was solely unique to Clay. Opioids worked on everyone else, except for the Kid who somehow reacted better to the weaker stuff than he did hopped up on morphine. No matter what injury he had received, the first thing out of the Kid’s mouth was a request for a liquid gel. Shocked the shit out of him when he refused the morphine when he had gotten shot in the ass.

Packages upon packages of gauze, in every size that you could imagine. He normally stocked quite a few different sizes and rolls, but ever since the kid joined them, he went through them like Sonny went through whiskey. A bullet wound on Clay bled like a stuck pig and he wasn’t going to make the mistake of not having enough. 

A small package of jolly ranchers, without the grape flavor. The Kid apparently hated all things grape flavored and he didn’t want to have to put up a fight the next time he needed a quick jolt of sugar. Arguing with someone who’s only half conscious because they  _ forgot to eat _ wasn’t high on Trent’s to do list. Better to avoid the whole discussion, or you know figure out a way to remember to eat during OPs.

Hell, he even stocked tampons in his kit now. Tampons. In a squad comprised of only men. He saw Clay put one up his nose to stop a nosebleed and he was hooked, only after teasing him that he had stolen it from Sonny when he was being particularly ornery during an OP. The ensuing fights were worth the headache of listening to them bicker because he figured out something that  _ worked _ for the Kid that didn’t involve bodily harm. 

But now that he had all of these random things, he didn’t know how they would fit into the small bag he allowed himself while they were deployed. If he had it his way, there would be multiple bags filled with everything that he could think of, but you can’t always get what you want. As he unpacked and repacked over and over, he didn’t hear Clay come into the cages and his soft voice had him nearly chucking a roll of gauze at his head. 

“Whoa! Sorry, next time I’ll wait till you’re finished,” Clay said, laughing slightly at Trent’s shocked expression. 

“No, no, it’s fine, you just startled me. This can wait,” he said, shoving random things in his pack, trying to zipper it all shut while talking to Clay. “What’s up, everything good? You looked solid on the course this morning.”

“Yeah, yeah, everything’s great. It felt good to be up there. Um, would you mind taking a look at my ears?”

Trent felt his stomach sink. G _ reat, just great. The Kid had another mystery for me to solve _ . Turning towards him, Trent motioned for him to sit down and dug through his disorganized organized mess of a kit before really looking at Clay. 

Pale skin, hands clenching the tops of his knees. He sat down gingerly, but Trent didn’t think that there was anything muscle or joint wise that was wrong, and he was complaining about his ears. Sighing in relief, Trent tried to hide his smirk. This was a classic case of an operator wanting things to go back to normal after they got their bell rung. “What’s going on besides ear pain.”

“Dizziness, lightheadedness, nausea. Same thing since the last time you took a look at me. Over a week ago now.”

_ Oh, he was definitely impatient, _ he laughed to himself. It had been a week since an IED exploded less than twenty feet away from him, of course there were going to be lingering side effects. “Have the symptoms gotten better or worse? There anything you do to make it better?”

“Nothing really makes it better, except you know, sitting in a dark, quiet room. But it hasn’t gotten any worse and isn’t worse than -” Clay cut himself off before clearing his throat. “No, the symptoms are the same that they’ve always been. 

“So, you’re sensitive to light and sound?”

“I don’t have a concussion, Trent,” Clay scoffed. “I would be able to tell you if I had one, trust me, I’ve had enough of ‘em.”

“And has this ever happened to you before? Lightheadedness and dizziness after a head injury?” Trent knew the exact moment that he pushed too far. Clay sat up straight, not looking at him in the eyes, such a stark difference from the easygoing man that had been sitting in the same chair.  _ Nice going, Sawyer. Could you be any less subtle? _ The health history form that Clay had given him had left a lot to be desired and he was determined to try and figure out the missing pieces. It was turning out to be more of a battle than Trent thought, with Clay not offering any other pieces of information.

“No. Never.”

“Alright, let me take a look then. An ear infection might be throwing things out of whack combined with the tinnitus.” Trent looked into both ears, palpated all over his head, tugging and pulling at his ears, but there was nothing. “Everything looks good, Kid. I think you just caught yourself a nasty case of vertigo.”

“So, not going to be going away any time soon?”

“Nope, sorry. And there’s nothing that I can really give you either, unless you want an antiemetic for the nausea.”

“Nope, I’m good. Just making sure it wasn’t anything else.”

“Of course, you can always come to me with the med stuff,” Trent reassured him. It was almost like the Kid had something else on the tip of his tongue, but he didn’t know how to say it. 

“Do you think we can keep this between us right now?”

And there it was. The new kids always thought that they could keep their medical stuff hidden from the rest of the team, but it never ended up working in their favor. If at any point he felt that they were not good to operate, he would have to yank them and all of the details would end up aired like dirty laundry anyways. 

“Come on Trent, there’s no new illness, no new injury. Jason already knows that my balance is shot to shit right now from the blast. No need to worry anyone further but telling them that I came in for another checkup.”

“I won’t say anything, but you’re coming back here tomorrow for another check up and any damn time I want, no questions asked. If at any point, I think Jason needs to know, then he knows. If at any point, I think you need further testing, you’re going. Got it?”

“You bet, Trent,” Clay said, getting to his feet a bit unsteadily and hurrying towards the sound of Jason’s voice in the briefing room, leaving Trent standing in the cages alone. Or at least he thought he was alone. 

“Are you sure that was wise?” Brock’s voice sounded from the corner of the room. 

“Holy shit, Brock! How the hell do you do that?” he complained, trying to force himself to stop his heart from beating out of his chest. 

“It’s not my fault that you don’t see or hear anything else when you’re presented with a medical enigma like he is, you just need to be more aware of your surroundings,” he said primly, laughing when the vein on the side of his forehead started to pop out. 

“Or you could stop being a damn ninja and let me know when you’re in the room. I wouldn’t have asked him some of the questions if I didn’t think that we were alone.”

“I came in at the very tail end, didn’t hear anything important,” Brock assured him. He would never listen to any of his brothers talk to Trent about a medical issue, it wasn’t right and they deserved any amount of privacy that they could find. “Do you really think that this is a good idea? Sending him out when he’s off balance, not telling Jason about the SITREP?”

Trent sighed and sat down in the chair that Clay had just vacated. He loved being a corpsman, loved being able to help his brothers when they needed him. But he did not love being put in the middle of what was right for his brothers as humans and what was right for his brothers as a  _ team _ . “Not at all, but I had no reason to report any of this to Jason, HIPAA does still apply to us, you know.”

“You think Jay wouldn’t want to know?”

“I think that the Kid came to me in confidence and I wasn’t going to break the miniscule amount of trust that he does have in me and blab to Jason.” Trent stopped for a minute, studying the expression on Brock’s face. “I thought that you didn’t like the Kid, haven’t spoken much to him.” It was well documented that when Brock didn’t speak to a new guy, that they didn’t last long. It was going on a month and a half that Clay had been drafted and Brock had yet to say more than a few passing words to the Kid, yet he still remained firmly in the Bravo Six position. 

“Cerb and him have an understanding, good enough for me,” he said, leaving Trent alone with his thoughts. Brock was never one to push after he’d made his point and this was no exception. Either Trent would follow his advice and tell Jason or he wouldn’t, but that wasn’t for Brock to try and force upon him. There were plenty of times where he wished that he knew what happened to his brother as a kid and how he came to be so outwardly calm. Brock wouldn’t open up about it, and forcing the subject led to Cerberus protecting her master, and Trent sure did have the scars to prove it.

Just once he wished that Brock would tell him what to do, make the decisions a little easier. But he never did. 

The only person who could make the decisions on what was best for the health of the team and his brothers was him, and right now? Trent wasn’t sure if this decision was right for either players. 

“Trent you back there?” Ray’s voice called from the cages. “We need you out here to get started, you coming brother?”

“I’m on my way!” Shoving his thoughts back into the corner of his mind, Trent stood and tried to think of all of the possible scenarios that Blackburn could have cooked up for this wonderful week long training exercise. 

Nothing could have prepared him for what the afternoon would bring. 

* * *

“What in the holy hell is this?” Ray says, going to pat the nose of the gelding closest to him. 

Each man had followed their commander like ducklings into a field that was normally used for hand to hand combat training. But instead of the dummies that they usually practiced with, six geldings stood, eating grass and paying the sailors no mind. 

“Those would be horses, you sure you got your eyes checked with that physical?” Sonny wisecracked, tugging his hat further down onto his head. This was a training exercise that he could get behind, afterall he was practically born on a horse. He had this one in the bag.

“I had planned for us to do a HAHO, but since some of us can’t be trusted to use the chutes that are provided, I thought we could do something different today.” Eric glared at Brock and Sonny, who were hanging their heads trying to look apologetic. 

They weren’t.

Painting targets on their chutes was well worth all of the hills that they had to run to pay off that transgression. 

“Hey now, maybe we’ll have to get a spotter for GQ over there, first time he’s been on the back of a true beauty,” Sonny crowed, smacking his shoulder. He didn’t see Clay’s reaction through the tears that were streaming from his eyes at the thought of a grown man needing a spotter on horseback, but Trent did. The boy was barely standing on his feet. 

“I went to the same boot camp you did Son, I know how to ride a damn horse.”

“Oh great, new kid thinks that he’s some sorta cowboy over here, look out fellas a new sheriff’s in town.”

“Not quite Son, I’ll leave the lassoing to you and your lady friends later tonight,” Clay retorted and Trent was happy to see him smiling, although he still looked a little green around the gills. He couldn’t be too bad if he could joke around with Sonny and dish it out just as good as he got. 

“I don’t care who does what when they’re not on base, but for right now gear up and saddle up. Plenty of time for lady friends later.”

“So we’re just going for a ride?”

“Now that would be too easy,” Blackburn replied, smiling slightly. “Get to the top, without losing any gear and back as fast as you can. And be prepared. You never know what you’ll find up there.”

* * *

Out of all of his brothers, it took Brock the longest to get settled on his horse and start the trek up the hill that they had just finished running. There was Cerb to settle and then his weapon and all of it didn’t seem to fit in the saddle. It was a mess. He wasn’t the most comfortable on horseback, but he could make it work as long as Cerb would cooperate and not spook the damn thing. 

Who would have thought that dogs and horses wouldn’t get along? Certainly not Brock. 

From his vantage point at the back of the pack, he could see the rest of his brothers and their various states on horseback. Jason was, of course, calm, cool and collected. Ray seemed like he was doing fine, but wasn’t speaking, so maybe he was concentrating more than he let on. Trent was miserable, hanging on the gelding’s neck for dear life and he wished that somehow he had a camera to get a picture of that. Sonny and Clay were at the front, looking like they were born on the back of a horse. Sonny always claimed that he learned to ride before he learned to walk, and it sure looked that way. Clay surprised him. He was a little stiffer than Sonny, but he was riding well enough to keep pace with Sonny. 

It was the picture of brotherhood, all six of them working through their training exercise well and making good time. But what he could see, he couldn’t hear. 

His perception might have changed  _ just  _ a little if he was close enough to hear what foolishness Sonny and Clay had cooked up with the brain that they seemingly shared. 

* * *

Ray was trying, really he was. Horses and him got along just fine and he would continue telling himself that until they were all safely on the ground again. You could ask him to jump out of a plane, swim in shark infested waters, trek through the jungle and he would find a way to make it work. But riding horses uphill wasn’t high on his list of fun missions, even if it was only training 

At least he had some entertainment. 

Sonny and Clay had been trading barbs since they had gotten on horseback and it was getting ridiculous. He didn’t know what a  _ toerag _ was, but apparently Sonny was acting like one and needed to stop. And of course that brought all of the complaints that he was being a pansy and needed to grow a pair. 

It would almost be amusing if the edge of anger had been removed from their conversations. Sonny had yet to warm to the new guy and Ray wasn’t sure that any amount of team bonding was going to fix that relationship. 

His ears perked up when Sonny’s betting voice came out, not that Clay would be able to recognize the tone. This was not going to end well. 

“Hey Woody, think you can make Bullseye take a leap? No way a filly like you can make it over the next set o’ brambles.” Sonny smirked when he saw Clay’s jaw tense up,  _ gotcha now, kid. Let’s see what happens here. _

“Bet your ass I can,” Clay said, pride coloring his voice. 

“Go on, then, you waiting for an engraved invitation?”

Ray watched in horror as Sonny fell back, letting Clay take the lead. He was preparing to make his jump when Eric’s cryptic warning finally made sense. A ‘tango’ shot up from behind the set of brambles wielding a paintball gun. The distinct popping sound spooked the already hyper vigilant horse and bucked, sending Clay flying over the edge of the hillside. 

The dust settles, and Clay is gone. 

Again.

* * *

“What the fuck was that?”

“It was a joke! How in the world was I supposed to know that the damn man would pop up from behind the  _ bushes! _ Not like that was my intention!”

“No, your intention was to try and humiliate the Kid, damn the rest of the consequences. I wish you would just  _ think _ for a second about someone other than yourself, brother!”

“Oh that’s some holier than thou shit comin’ from you Perry, you think about anything other than trying to get to master chief? Nothing stands in the way of the mighty Ray Perry,” Sonny bit out, wishing that his pack carried something a little stronger than water. He would need some if anything happened to the Kid. He didn’t mean nothing by it, just a little something to have him earn his keep. 

“What’s going on here?”

Neither of them spoke, not wanting to incur more of Jason’s wrath than necessary.

“Speak. Now.”

“Clay was bucked from the gelding, unknown injuries and unknown location. Ray and I were arguing over who’s fault it was that we lost the Kid.”

“That true?”

Ray had two options. He could go along with Sonny and try and rip him a new one in private, or he could contradict him and waste more time arguing than rescuing the Kid. “Sounds about right. We saw him get bucked just up ahead, should be somewhere nearby.”

“Alright, I’m going down for him,” Trent said from the back where he and Brock had cantered up to the group. “I doubt he wants an audience right now, and someone’s gonna have to get me the backboard.”

“The backboard?” Sonny whispered. This was bad. No one asked for the backboard for a little flight. 

“Yeah, Son. he got thrown from a horse and rolled at least fifty feet. I don’t know what kinda shape he’s in and I’m not taking any chances,” Trent said, dismounting and thanking his lucky stars that he had thought to take his kit with him.  _ Note to self, don’t go anywhere without it as long as Clay is with you _ , he thought to himself, peering over the edge of the hillside. He spotted the Kid and started to make his way over the edge, taking care not to fall himself. 

“Clay?”

He didn’t get a response, but the labored breathing and muttered curses told him more than the lies that Clay would spew ever could. He was expecting him to be in a fair bit of pain after being thrown, but this was out of character for the usually stoic kid that he had grown to love.

“Yeah, Trent.”

“Have a good flight?”

“It was swell, no movie though,” Clay joked, trying to breathe through the pain and nausea and dizziness. If he thought that he felt bad before his little ride through the hills, he was sorely mistaken. And that wasn’t even counting the pain radiating from his arm. 

He wasn’t going to look down at that one just yet. 

“I’d give that a 8 out of 10, you probably coulda gotten more height on the dismount. You ok Kid?”

“I’m fine.”

Of course he was fine, nothing ever was wrong with the Kid even when he had a bullet sticking out of his ass. “You sure about that?”

“Fine, Trent.”

“Well stay fine and answer some of my questions. Anything broken?”

“Not that I can tell,” he said shifting, groaning when muscles protested. He was sure that he would be able to tell if he had broken a bone, but his elbow was definitely more than bruised. Trent hadn’t looked up yet from his kit, taking out IV tubing and hunting through the vials of medication for one that he  _ thought _ would work without too many side effects. At least he was going to the infirmary, anything negative happened, they would handle it along with the rest of his injuries. 

“Bleeding?”

“Negative.”

“You can move everything?”

Clay hesitated for a brief moment, and met Trent’s gaze which was starting to look more panicked by the second. It hurt like a bitch, but he could move everything important. An elbow didn’t seem too important in the grand scheme of things. He didn’t want to move, lest he start the waves of nausea and dizziness again. But he could, if he wanted to. “Everything moves like it’s supposed to, but um, my elbow man.”

“Your elbow?” Trent paused, taping off the IV line to his forearm. Reaching across his brother, he groaned. “Clay! Why the fuck didn’t you say you were in pain?”

“I can take it,” Clay said roughly. “What is it?”

“Dislocated. I don’t care how much you wanna be a tough guy, you’re getting the morphine. Trent paused before depressing the syringe. Clay’s gaze was unfocused, and his speech was beginning to become tremulous. “Dizzy?”

“Yeah, feel like I’m in a tilt-a-whirl.”

“This isn’t going to help, but at least you won’t feel them reducing the fracture.” Trent inserted the needle into the largest vein he could find and carefully watched the lines around his mouth ease. He didn’t know how Clay wasn’t howling in pain. Elbow dislocations were notoriously painful, hell any dislocation was painful. But yet he was talking and joking like it didn’t even hurt. The Kid was either in shock or this wasn’t his first rodeo. That was something Trent carefully filed away for later, choosing to focus on how he and Clay were going to get themselves to the infirmary. 

“You know I’m gonna have to tell Jay about this morning right?”

And Clay did know that, he figured that part out on his second, or was it third, somersault down the hillside. Part of the reason he fell so hard was because he got dizzy and forgot everything he learned in boot camp about staying on his damn horse. Stupid fucking IED.

Clay scoffs and makes to get up, swallowing back the nausea that lingered in the back of his throat, ignoring Trent’s remark for the time being. He’d figure out how to get out of that one when he could stand up straight. “Son’s gonna be impossible if you don’t let me walk outta here, but you’re not going to let me do that are you?”

“Not a chance in hell, Sonny already went back to base. Exercise’s shot to hell. I want you coming out of here on a backboard.”

“And that’s not necessary.”

“I’ll decide what’s necessary here, Spenser. Remember, what I say goes.”

Unsurprisingly, Trent got what he wanted and Clay was strapped to the backboard, cheeks burning in shame as his brothers carried him down the hillside. At least he thought that he was supposed to feel ashamed, everything was floating. And he felt… weird. None of his thoughts were making sense - and oh is that Adam? Good thing the man didn’t see him take a tumble, he’d probably want to kiss his boo boos like he did as a child.  _ Oh God this was weird,  _ he thought to himself as the world tilted.  _ Please just let me pass out already, _ he prayed as the morphine started to creep over his mind and the world grew dark. 

* * *

_ Plink! Plink! Plink!  _ The tinny sounds of Sonny taping on the side of his hospital bed were the first thing that Clay heard when he opened his eyes in the infirmary. Raising his left hand, he tried to scratch the sleep out his eyes, frowning at the sling his right arm was encased in.  _ Guess I really did a number on it this time _ , he thought, trying to get himself together. 

“Didn’t know cowboys played dress up as sleeping beauty,” Sonny said from the corner, chewing thoughtfully on a toothpick. He had had a lot of time to think while the Kid was sleeping, and none of those thoughts were particularly kind. 

Or focused on Clay. 

No, Sonny was having an all out pity party for himself, complete with the self-flagellation. 

“Guess I’m not a cowboy, Son,” Clay sighed, not in the mood to deal with the barbs that he would throw at him. Apparently a man couldn’t even recover in peace. Sometimes it really sucked to be the new guy. 

“No, you’re not. But you are my brother, and that means we gotta square up when things don’t go as planned and I owe you an apology.”

“Son, no chick flick moments, ok? I took the bet, made the jump. None of this is your fault.”

“Clay, we both know that I shouldn’ta thought to try and let you try some harebrained, half-cocked plan without even trying to stop you, no matter the bet. That’s what makes me the older,  _ wiser _ , brother here,” Sonny explained, wishing that he would just let him apologize so that they could be done with their chick flick moment and move on. 

“Either way, no hard feelings man.”

“Good, good.”

Clay laid back on his pillow, closing his eyes. His pain level was going up the longer he was awake, but he didn’t want the meds, not if he could help it. The tension coming off of Sonny didn’t help him relax, but at least he wasn’t alone. 

“You, uh, want more of the meds? I think I could find a pretty lil’ nurse to come in here and give you some more,” Sonny asked, unsure of how he could help his brother. He would do whatever it took for him to get back on his feet again. “Or Trent’s around here somewhere with the guys, they gave us a bit while they’re talking to the doc. Want me to go find em?”

“Nah, no meds. Just, uh, try and find a hockey game for me?”

“You got it Kid, one Canadian fist fight coming your way.” Sonny settled down in the recliner and flipped through the channels till he found a Flyers game. It was a rerun of the game that they had played the night before, but it didn’t matter to Clay, who was out before the first period was over. He stayed by his side, watching the game until his concentration was shattered by Trent popping his shaggy head in the doorway.

“You good in here?” he said, suspiciously. They were both sitting quietly, Clay sleeping and Sonny choosing to watch hockey of all things. They didn’t even have cheerleaders that danced during halftime. 

“We’re good in here, but uh, the Kid could use some more pain meds but he won’t touch the good stuff. Got anything lying around for him?”

Trent bit back his smile and pulled out the vial of liquid ibuprofen. He figured that Clay would refuse more morphine, but he was surprised that Sonny was coming to his aid and that he had picked up on his pain. “Yeah I got something, Jason’s going to take over for you tomorrow morning, want him to bring you anything?”

“Nah, we’re good here.”

Trent left the room and let the grin spread over his face. Sonny was right, they were good. Finally they might just be on their way to acting like brothers should. 

* * *

A few weeks later, Clay had gotten his soft cast off and was working in PT on base when he heard Sonny’s girlish scream. “Clay! You little twit!”

“What Son, got a snake in your boot? I heard only real cowboys managed that,” he called out, grinning to himself. Sonny would get him back for that, but this time it would be out of love, brotherly love. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know your thoughts for 'F' and don't forget to let me know if you enjoyed this chapter! I hope all of you are safe and well and healthy.


	6. Frozen in Fear

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Running with weight on his back meant that he couldn’t watch their back. 
> 
> It also meant getting out of the fucking cold faster than walking. 
> 
> Guess it’s time to really show the guys how fast I can run, Clay mused, grabbing onto Mandy’s shoulder. “Mandy, we’re gonna run. I’m going to carry you, but I want you to hold on as tightly as you can. Tuck your face into my shoulders, we’re almost there.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Turns out working in a hospital in a pandemic isn't easy, updates will be sporadic but I won't abandon anything. I hope you all enjoy this (not so) little fic and that you're staying safe and healthy.

Clay isn’t sure what wakes him up, or how he even managed to fall asleep. The events from the past few weeks swirl in his mind, different time zones, different OPs, never getting to rest for more than a few hours before they bounced to a different part of the world. 

At least the bunks they had now were more comfortable than the ones in Tel Aviv. They were still packed in tighter than sardines, but the mattress was soft and he felt like he could finally take a deep breath without inhaling sand or wilting under the intense heat. Even in the middle of February, Israel was stifling and, though the change was dramatic, he much preferred the cold weather of Siberia. 

And that was a statement he never thought that he’d make. 

Clay punched his pillow a few times and rolled onto his stomach, desperate to try and fall back asleep before they had to be up for the day, or evening. He was so twisted on what part of the day it was, but undoubtedly knew that it was 0545 Virginia Beach time, which meant that it was time to go. Unfortunately, he was the only one that seemed to think so. Sonny is sawing logs with the depth of his snores that were interspersed by Brock mumbling. Ray is breathing deeply, a tiny whistle escaping as he exhaled before Trent’s long, slow breathing began again. He wasn’t quite sure if Jason was asleep or not, but he was quiet and content to stay lying on his bunk. 

Going back to back on some many different OPs wasn’t unusual for them, they did it all the time. Intel was often time sensitive and if they were already deployed… why call in another team? Then again, their intel was normally centered around the same neck of the woods that they were deployed in and they got more than three hours sleep between them, but this was  _ normal  _ and part of the lives that they had chosen for themselves.  _ Seeing the sun a time or two in between OPs might help _ , he thought to himself, trying to force his mind to relax and drift off to happier locations.

Emma and him, cuddling in their bed in the apartment. 

Seeing his brothers home, safe, together at a barbecue. 

Lazy evenings in the orphanage with his grandparents as a child. 

No matter which image he drew forth into his mind, it just wouldn’t shut off again. 

He was up for the day. Might as well make himself useful.

Swinging his legs over the edge of the bunk, Clay slipped off quietly, turning to see if anyone woke up. Sonny was down for the count, and nothing short of an explosion would wake him when he was truly asleep. But Jason and Trent were a different story… waking at the slightest noise. Clay didn’t blame them, they were used to listening out in the dark and had saved his bacon on more than one occasion because of that talent. But tonight he really hoped that they would stay sleeping and let him process his thoughts on his own for a change.

The soft sounds of his brothers sleeping in their beds continued, and Clay eyed his ruck apprehensively. The first day that they had arrived, Trent had trussed him up in more clothing than a child going out in the snow. There were the long johns and the snow pants and the mittens and the scarves and the hat and the insulated boots and any other piece of clothing that Trent could get his hands on. He wore them all without complaint, acknowledging that there was a good possibility that he would get sick if he didn’t follow Trent’s instructions to the letter. Trent was normally dismissive of any of the old wives tales to prevent against getting sick, but bundling up in the cold was the only one he held firm too. Something about Granny Sawyer swearing up and down that ‘ _ you would catch your death in the cold’  _ one too many times when he was a child, and it stuck.

Now that they were in a climate where that advice could be given and followed, Trent wasn’t taking any chances. 

_ But I’m just going to the OPs building, do I really need all of this to walk twenty feet?  _ Clay mused to himself, not liking the idea of trying to wrestle into all of this in the dark without waking someone. The boots were a definite, and the first thing he put on after his jeans and long sleeve. Jamming the hat on his head and the mitten on his hands, Clay left the other articles of clothing on his ruck, he’d come back later to put it all on before Trent was awake to yell at him for it. 

The walk from the barracks to the OPs tent was short, but the cold managed to bite at him as he hurried through the fluttering snow. It seemed that no matter where they went on base, there was either snow falling or the threat of snow was on the horizon. Clay didn’t mind it, having rarely seen any snow before he came back to the states, but it put Sonny in a bad mood which didn’t go over well for anyone. The hushed tones of the guards surrounding them was muted from the snow falling around them, but Clay caught a few words here and there. Cyrillic languages weren’t his best, but he could still puzzle them out if he had enough time to read them. It was certainly a shock when the guys found out that this was one of the many languages that he  _ didn’t _ speak, as if he was supposed to know them all. Russian was very different from the majority of languages that he spoke, all of which center around a similar alphabet and grammar pattern. Turning those ideals on its head didn’t help his translation efforts. 

The sheer act of having to use his brain in a way that it wasn’t accustomed to might just be enough to exhaust his brain and let him sleep for a little bit longer. 

Hopefully. 

Clay opened the door, grunting at the force needed to push the door. The scrape of the wooden door against the concrete would have been loud enough to raise the dead, but the room was as silent as a morgue, with only the harsh light of the lamp left on to illuminate the documents scattered over the table. 

“She left a few minutes ago, something about a meetup.”

Clay jumped at the voice at his back, and grit his teeth at the thought that someone had gotten the drop on him. Maybe he was more tired than he thought, good thing it wasn’t someone that meant him any harm, or at least he hoped that he didn’t mean him any harm. “Do you have any idea where she went?”

“Somewhere close by, she’d been mumbling all day about trying to stop a transport of some kind? I can’t make heads or tails of this stuff, it looks like gibberish to me,” the man said, shuffling through the papers for Mandy’s set of notes. Clay scanned Mandy’s cramped writing on the pieces of paper, mind whirling as he tried to connect the dots between her notes and the rough translation in his mind. 

It didn’t add up, you can’t add two and two and get five. 

“Who translated this for her?”

“I don’t know.”

“Do you know anything useful?” Clay exclaimed, trying to see if the man would be able to help him at all. 

“I know as much as you know and nothing more, what are you so concerned about?”

“The translation’s wrong and whoever translated this led her into a damn snatch and grab, that’s what I’m so fucking concerned over.” 

Thankfully, the support guy didn’t make too much fuss, handing over his pistol and throwing the keys to the Humvee at him. He had enough sense not to question why Clay was going to go after their CIA operative, having seen the way that Bravo interacted with the various members of their team. If you were loyal to Bravo, they were loyal to you; Mandy was no exception to that rule. Clay ran out of the OPs tent to the small concrete field where they had parked the Humvee, still clutching the journal page that contained Mandy’s notes. The location that was agreed upon was at least twenty minutes out and there was only fifteen minutes until the meeting time. 

He was going to have to push it to make it on time. But he would make it, there really wasn’t another option. In the ten or so minutes it took for him to figure out where Mandy had gone, the snow had started to fall earnestly, but the large tires of the Humvee cut easily through the pillowy snow, spitting as they turned rapidly.  _ Why in the holy fuck did she decide to go on a meet up without telling someone?  _ he thought to himself.  _ Well, telling one of us,  _ he amended. Because she did tell someone, just not someone useful. Jason would have kittens when he learned of what happened today, but somehow Mandy would grin and it would be forgotten with promises that she would stay safer next time. Clay would scoff at those claims and raise his eyebrows at Trent, silently thinking that she got into more scrapes than he did, which was a rare feat in itself. 

As Clay got closer and closer towards the outskirts of the base, the treeline became thicker and thicker, contrasting with the pure white snow that was falling. The dense trees partially obstructed the beat up sedan that Mandy used to travel to her ‘clients’, but Clay spotted it, and spotted the woman herself, backing up to the door of the sedan. He made it just in the nick of time.

* * *

* * *

_Things get lost in translation,_ Mandy thought to herself, hoping that Alexei would start making sense, maybe speak a little more English so that they might come to understand one another. She had followed all the clues, gotten all of the translations vetted, done all of the things. Yet she was still going to die in the cold twilight at the edge of a military base where the entirety of her protection lay unaware. 

She knew that she wasn’t invincible, that she was mortal and could die at any moment in the places that they frequented. But as of late, she was feeling decidedly more like Wonder Woman than Lois Lane and now it had come back to bite her in the ass.

“Alexei, I’ve done all that I can! I’ve given you all of the information that I have on Ucheniki, you know all that I know!”

“It isn’t enough,” he roared, blue eyes flashing dangerously, spittle landing on my cheek. The heat of his anger burned in between us and Mandy took a step back, cursing the fact that she didn’t know more self defense and had pushed away Jason’s attempts at teaching her. The Farm was good for many things, but unfortunately teaching anything other than covert operations wasn’t part of the curriculum. The cool metal of the car door pressed into my lower back and she stared into his face, hoping it wasn’t going to be the last thing that she saw. Alexei pressed his body against mine, close enough that Mandy could smell his rank breath and watch as he reared his hand back, socking her solidly in the jaw. Her vision blurred for a moment, and the sound of two people scuffling was the first thing that broke through the fog of pain. Mandy ended up on her hands and knees and the bite of the snow against her fingertips brought her back to the present moment and the fact that she still wasn’t out of the woods yet. 

_ Ellis, what the hell do you have on you right now? _ Mandy thought frantically. There weren’t any weapons, there was no way that she would be able to run fast enough or far enough to evade someone who knew these woods like the back of their hands. Mandy had a bottle of water, a notebook, and an ice scraper. 

Well she’d certainly been in situations with less. 

It would have to do. 

Brandishing her makeshift weapon in her hands, Mandy turned towards the fight and swung with all her might. Alexei dropped like a sack of potatoes onto Mandy’s rescuer, who was breathing heavily, breath fogging up the air like a small chimney. 

“You alright, Mandy?”

“ _ Clay? _ ”

“Yeah, mind getting him off of me?”

She tugged and he pushed and together they moved Alexei into the snow bank. Mandy glanced around, wondering when the rest of the team was going to come out of the woodwork and scold her for not telling someone where she was going. Wondering when Jason was going to act like an overgrown knight in shining armor. When no one popped out from behind a tree, Mandy looked down at her  _ actual _ savior and felt a brief moment of panic. 

The Kid had come by himself. 

Jason had to be going nuts by now. 

“Clay,” Mandy started, not sure she wanted to know the answer to her unspoken question. 

“Mandy,” Clay drawled back, mimicking her statement. 

“You know you’re going to be running hills when we get back, right?”

Clay laughed, then spoke while dusting the snow off of her shoulders, surreptitiously checking her for injuries. “Nah, I’ll be fine ‘cuz I’m returning you back to base, safe and sound. No hills for a  _ successfully _ stupid mission. Besides, it’s going to be  _ you _ that has to face Jason’s wrath, not me.”

“We’d better get going then, not sure I want to take my chances and let him get any angrier.”

“I thought you’d never ask, feels like my face is going to freeze off.” Clay helped Mandy get into the front seat of the Humvee cursing himself for not listening when Trent said that he needed to wear every single piece of clothing that was given to him. He might not be running hills, but it was guaranteed that he would have to listen to another lecture from Trent on the proper ways to dress in subzero temperatures. If his ears didn’t freeze off first, of course. 

“How did you know where I was?”

“Translated the damn thing myself, Ellis, you really have to vet these translators more. If I could figure it out in a language that I don’t speak fluently, your so-called translators are either awful or dirty.”

“I’m leaning towards the second option,” Mandy said, rubbing her arms. The Humvee wasn’t equipped with much heat, since the majority of them were used in climates that had plenty of heat to go around. The meager warmth that the vent did emit wasn’t doing much to combat the chill that her wet clothes were creating as they dried. Clay didn’t look like he was faring much better either, small shivers wracking his body when he thought that she wasn’t looking. The trees had begun to thin again, and there was the odd lamppost or two, signalling that they were getting closer and closer towards base. Towards safety. Towards Jason. 

They drove in silence for a while, neither wanting to admit that the pitiful warmth wasn’t doing anything. Thousands of apologies burned behind her throbbing eyes, but every time they bubbled close to the surface, nothing would come out. She knew that Clay wasn't mad at her, that Mandy had followed my protocol to the letter, but yet still felt some level of responsibility.  _ Way to prove that you’re not a fainting daisy, _ she scoffed to herself bitterly, trying to come up with the arguments that she could present to Jason.

“Ellis, hey, hey Mandy!”

“Wha’,” Mandy said, trying to pry my eyes open again. The lack of adrenaline combined with the need for sleep was doing a fine job of pulling her under.

“Need you to stay awake a bit longer, gonna need you to help me explain to the boss man and my mother hen why we’re soaking wet.”

His attempt at humor fell flat and Mandy closed her eyes again, ignoring Clay. They’d see that we were both ok and shout a bit and then it would be done. The Kid was just being dramatic now.

All thoughts of sleep flew out of her mind when the sound of a tire popping bolted her straight up in the jump seat. Then another, and then the sound of gunfire reached Mandy’s ears along with Clay’s best sailor’s curse

“Mandy, with me, we gotta move,” Clay said, unbuckling her seat belt and removing her from the jump seat with practiced ease. 

Too tired and disoriented to say anything else, Mandy allowed herself to be manipulated, walking back to back with Clay. They’d be on base soon, or someone would come looking for them. It would be alright. If she couldn’t have Jason, his Kid was almost as good, nothing bad would come to her as long as Bravo Team held a breath. 

* * *

* * *

As Clay drove the borrowed Humvee back to base, he knew it was bad long before Mandy had started to slump in her seat. In all of the time that he had known her, he hadn’t seen her sleep. Not even a cat nap in the OPs tent after countless hours pouring over documents. She was the invincible Amanda Ellis. The hit to her jaw snapped her head back with enough force that it crashed into the roof of her car. If that had happened to him, Trent would have had him on his back on the way to a hospital before he could even spit the blood out of his mouth. 

And now with the way that she was acting… he was almost certain that she had a concussion. Certainly not her first, but you never knew which one was going to put you on your ass. 

“Ellis, hey, hey Mandy!” He didn’t like the way her eyes were drooping shut, wasn’t Trent always going on and on about how people with head injuries need to stay conscious for a while?  _ Of all the times to be beyond the wire without one of my brothers _ he thought to himself, trying to think of what Trent would do in this situation.

“Wha’.” 

“Need you to stay awake a bit longer, gonna need you to help me explain to the boss man and my mother hen why we’re soaking wet.” It seemed like my jokes weren’t going to be the thing that kept her awake but the gunfire sure would. Clay thought that a flicker of fear passed through her muddled gaze, but then Agent Ellis was back and they were on the move. With his left arm wrapped around her waist and his right holding his Sig they walked back to back adjacent to the main path back to base. Clay considered going further into the woods that surrounded the main road, but with their luck they would get lost and be in a bigger predicament than they already were. Even through the layers that he had put on, Clay could begin to feel the tell-tale tingling in his exposed fingers and nose. 

Frostbite. 

And if he was feeling it with some of his thermal layers, then Mandy was definitely feeling it and would quickly become hypothermic, one of the things that Trent had lectured all of them on ad nauseum since they had gotten to base. Normally he was more concerned with hyperthermia, but either one would kill a man before he could be found and it was to be avoided at all costs. Mandy stumbled for the third time and Clay slowed. 

“Clay?”

“Yeah Mandy, we’re gonna stop for a minute, come ‘ere.” Clay hugged her for a moment, thinking quickly. They weren’t going to be alive long enough to walk back to the base at the rate they were going.

“Are we almost there?”

Debating with himself over whether or not to be honest, Clay hesitated. “Uh, no, Mandy, we’re not close. Gonna have to go to plan B.” She was getting more confused, it could be a symptom of the head injury, or it could be a symptom of hypothermia. Either way, he wasn’t going to take the chance that something happened he could have prevented by moving faster. By his estimates, they were about two miles off base, a distance that he could easily run with Mandy’s weight on his back. 

Running with weight on his back meant that he couldn’t  _ watch _ their back. 

It also meant getting out of the fucking cold faster than walking. 

_ Guess it’s time to really show the guys how fast I can run _ , Clay mused, grabbing onto Mandy’s shoulder. “Mandy, we’re gonna run. I’m going to carry you, but I want you to hold on as tightly as you can. Tuck your face into my shoulders, we’re almost there.”

Clay doesn’t wait for Mandy to agree or disagree, but swept her into his arms and started to run, Sig placed against her back still clutched in his hand. The snow had kicked up and with every stride, Clay felt the tiny ice crystals cutting into his face and hands.  _ Buck up, Spenser. You’re almost there, think about that warm bed. Jay is going to kill you if you don’t bring Mandy home safe.  _

At last, the base came into view and Clay felt himself relax a little more. It wouldn’t be long until he could get Mandy to Trent and find a bed to curl up, three maybe four more minutes. Clay came upon the barracks and without a thought about the fact that his brothers were likely still sleeping. Crashing through the door, he had enough sense to hit the light before staring into Trent’s worried face and depositing Mandy at his feet. 

Then he hit the deck.

_ At least it’s warmer than the snow,  _ was the last thought that passed through his head before his vision swam and faded. 

He did it. 

Someone else could do the hard work now. 

* * *

* * *

Jason Hayes had worked hard to become Bravo One. He’d jumped through every hoop, trained harder and longer than most men, and had faced every single difficulty head on, but none of those things challenged him more than Clay Spenser. Just when Jason thought that the Kid was getting his head on straight, he went up and did something to prove the opposite. Jason had been awake since Clay’s feet hit the ground, anxiously awaiting his return.

An hour ticked by, far too long for him to be using the johnny. 

Too long for him to be searching for a hot meal. 

Far too long for him to be outside the barracks without every single piece of clothing that Trent had scrounged up for him. 

The longer that the Kid was out of their sight, the higher the probability that he had found himself in some sort of scrape and it set Jason’s teeth on edge. 

“Trent,” he whispered, unsure if anyone else had noticed Clay’s absence. Or even if there was anyone else awake. “You up?”

“Yeah, I’m up, not that I wanna be,” Trent responded darkly. He had been floating in that space between awake and asleep, but with Clay’s absence, it didn’t look like he would be visiting dreamland anytime soon. “How long’s he been gone?”

“An hour, going on two. I didn’t get up with him, figured he was hitting the head and would crawl back in bed for a bit, even if he didn’t sleep.”

“You think something happened?”

Jason snorted, not caring that it echoed in the relative silence of their barracks. They would all be awake soon anyways, going off to search for their wayward rookie, again. “It’s Clay, something happened. I don’t know where to even begin.”

“Alright, I’m up,” Trent heaved with a sigh. “Get your gear on,  _ all  _ of it, hopefully the Kid’s just sitting pretty somewhere. I don’t really feel like having to go get him.” Trent stumbled to the door of their barracks, hoping beyond hope that the Kid was out playing in the snow. He would never admit to any of this to his brothers, but the childlike wonder on Clay’s face when he first saw snow was endearing. After a brief moment of joy at watching Clay play with the falling snow, panic seized his heart. Clay didn’t know anything about snow, how to dress or the dangers. Everything was all well and good until someone lost a finger because they didn’t know they needed to keep their mittens on.

Despite his wish for Clay to be within their line of vision, all Trent saw was the stillness of the falling snow, blanketing a war torn country with the illusion of peace. 

Their own peace was quickly shattered as the door banged open, letting in a blast of snow and cold air, along with Clay and  _ Mandy? _

“What the fuck is tha’?” Sonny drawled, burrowing closer into his bunk.

Trent didn’t answer, he didn’t know what he was seeing until the barracks were flooded with light from the single bulb hanging from the ceiling. Blinking, he stared at the two figures on the floor, hoping that he was still dreaming in his warm bunk. “ _ Clay?” _

“What?”

“Who the fuck does he have with him, we’re not in fucking Narnia, you don’t just find strangers in the woods.”

“Someone get me my kit!”

Trent pried Clay apart from whoever he was holding, trying to get a look at the body cradled to his chest. Sucking in a deep breath, he spared a glance at Jason, who had brought Clay’s mattress down to the floor, knowing that would be Trent’s next request. They had seen this song and dance enough for it to become routine. 

“Mandy,” Jason whispered, dropping the mattress with a thud. 

The room was silent, everyone unsure of how to move forward. Indecision played out clearly on Jason’s normally stoic face and even Trent wasn’t sure who he was going to reach for first. His Kid, or his… whatever Mandy was to Jason. Trent wasn’t going to ask questions, but he needed Jason to make his decision so he could see to the other, they needed to move quickly. 

“Jay, we gotta move,” Trent prodded. The seconds were ticking by and the entire room was as frozen as the bodies in front of them. They might be in the safety of their base, but they were far from out of the woods. 

* * *

* * *

“Right, right.” Jason knelt down in front of Mandy and brushed her damp hair away from her face, jaw tightening at the bruise already forming on her pale skin. “What do I do?”

“Jay, get her out of the wet clothes, Brock, Sonny, start working on the Kid,” Trent barked, sparking the room into action. For the moment, it didn’t matter that Jason was having problems focusing, this was Trent’s rodeo and he would be obeyed. Ray sent him a long look and Trent just nodded towards Jason, if he couldn’t concentrate, he would go on autopilot. Better to have someone watching him than wait for the eventual explosion. With Jason squared away, Trent went back to focusing on the Kid. 

Jason nodded and started with her shoes, pulling the boots and thick socks that she insisted on wearing off her feet, tossing them in a pile. Her jeans were next and Jason’s hands stilled on the button of her pants. She shouldn’t be exposed like this in front of his men. It wasn’t right.

“Brother,” Ray interrupted him, handing him a blanket. Jason nodded and switched places with Ray, covering Mandy with the blanket. When she was situated in between his legs, Jason unbuttoned her pants and shoved them down as far as he could and worked on her shirt. He and Ray worked together to remove the rest of her clothing and Jason couldn’t have been more grateful that his brother knew him as well as he did. Better than he knew himself at times. 

Mandy lay unmoving in his arms, lips tinged slightly blue, not even shivering. 

Almost like she was dead. 

All around him the guys were working to get Clay stabilized, but Jason couldn’t split his focus. He couldn’t think. He couldn’t be Bravo One, all he could do was be Jason and hope that it would be enough and that his brother would survive. 

He didn’t want to think about a world where Mandy existed, but Clay did not.

* * *

* * *

When Jason spurred himself into action, Trent tried to put him out of his mind.  _ Jason will get you if you’re needed _ , he reminded himself as he laid Clay on the mattress, stripped down to the patterned boxers he wore.  _ Clay needs you right now.  _ Working with practiced ease, Trent started with Clay’s head and moved down, searching for any obvious injuries or deformities. 

“What’s wrong with ‘em,” Sonny growled from his position, holding Clay close to his chest. Sonny would deny it to the day he died, but Trent knew that there was no one else that he would allow to hold the Kid when he was injured and this was no exception.

“Obviously hypothermic, no external injuries that I can see, nothing looks broken,” Trent muttered, checking his skin as he went. His ears and nose were pink, but pink was good. Pink meant there was still blood flow. “Shit.”

“What?” Brock asked, handing over blankets that he had stuffed into the small washer and dryer that they had in their barracks. It would take time to heat all of the blankets, but other than body heat, it was all they had and it would have to do. 

“Frostbite, on his right hand, but not his left.”

“That’d be his happy hand, wouldn’t it?” Sonny asked, fighting the urge to smack Clay upside the head. Some sniper he’d be if he couldn’t shoot a gun after losing his fingers. 

“That it would, meant he was holding his weapon at some point,” Brock interjected. Why he was holding his weapon on base was yet another question, along with why the hell he wasn’t wearing half of the protective bullshit that Trent had gotten for him. 

“He gonna lose the hand?”

“I don’t think so, but it’s going to be a long night. We have to rewarm the tissue.”

“What’s wrong, Trent?”

“It’s...painful. And I can’t give him anything, not until I know for sure that he’s  _ only _ hypothermic and there are no underlying injuries. I can’t, we just have to try and get him conscious as soon as we can.”

“You got it,” Brock responded, finally having gotten an IV into Clay’s muscular arm. “We’re good here, Trent. There’s warm blankets, warm fluid, and Sonny’s with him, why don’t you check on Mandy?”

“Yeah, yeah, just remember to hug, don’t hold. Let the Kid shiver, ok?”

Both Sonny and Brock nodded, not even pretending that they weren’t watching Jason and Mandy. From their vantage point, they could see Mandy’s cheek tucked against Jason’s chest.

“She coming around?”

“Not yet, she feels a little warmer,” Jason responded, putting his hand against her forehead. Mandy had started to shiver a little bit and press herself closer to Jason’s warmth, but refused to open her eyes. 

“Ray, did you get a line in?”

“Yeah, it’s in. I didn’t see any other obvious injuries aside from her cheek. She doesn’t look as bad as Clay.”

“Kid probably protected her from the worst of it. Jay, did you know what she was up to?”

Jason shook his head, refusing to look up from Mandy’s face. Trent couldn’t recall a time when he saw Jason this rattled, not even after Alana’s death. He was always the man with a plan.

“We’ll ask them when they wake up then,” Trent decided. 

It was always a strange feeling, after the action was finished. He always felt like there was something that he should be doing, but there was nothing to be done. Clay was being rewarmed and Mandy was safer than any of them in Jason’s arms. Rocking back on his heels, Trent walked to the thermostat and tried to raise the temperature a few more degrees. They still had a few hours before the base ‘woke’ up officially. If Mandy and Clay still were hypothermic, they would get base medical then. And Eric. 

But if were at all possible, Trent wanted to avoid waking up Eric in the middle of the night to tell him that not only was Clay injured, but somehow Mandy had gotten dragged into as well.

* * *

* * *

“Trent! He’s wakin’ up,” Sonny hollered, not caring that Mandy was still asleep. She hadn’t woken up for anything before that, one more loud noise wasn’t going to make much of a difference. 

He spun around just in time to watch Clay hulk out and throw the blankets off of him and clock Sonny in the jaw. 

“Hey, hey, Kid! It’s me, Sonny!”

Sonny’s cry of pain stirred Cerb out of her slumber and her barks and sharp yips filled the air. Through the pandemonium, Clay managed to scamper up to the top bunk, patterned boxers flashing before he dove underneath the covers. 

“What the fuck was that?” Ray said, stunned. “I’ve never seen him like that.”

“Head injuries bring different languages, hyperthermia brings vomiting and fainting, and hypothermia makes the Kid turn into fucking Rocky apparently,”

“So we’re going to be fighting with him all night then, great,” Brock sighed, standing at the bottom of the bunk. If Trent said that he needed to get down, Brock was the only one small enough to fit up there and deposit his ass back to Sonny’s waiting arms.

“Nah, just leave him up there, nothing more that I can do for him other than stick a hot water bottle in there. Jay, you want to move onto the mattress, might be more comfortable for the both of you.”

“She’s starting to come around, I don’t want to move her if I don’t have to,” Jason replied, brushing the damp hair out of her eyes. He would never understand how Mandy could stand to have her hair in her face all the time. There was a reason that he kept his hair short that nothing to do with Navy regulations and everything to do with the fact that it was fucking annoying to be constantly fiddling with it. “Mandy, come on now, don’t go back to sleep. Mandy,” Jason cajoled, feeling triumphant when her eyes met his.

“Jace?”

“Yeah, you’re safe. Do you know where you are?”

Jason waited for the awareness to flood her body. She was lying in between his legs half naked surrounded by his men after being brought to their barracks by the youngest member of their team. They had no other information aside from a bruise on her jaw. They had to ask. 

“Yeah, I’m on base. Bravo barracks after I went out - wait, where’s Clay?”

“He’s in his bunk, warming up,” Jason replied, not liking that her first instinct was to look for his rookie. It always meant that the Kid had gotten into some sort of trouble if even  _ Mandy _ was out looking for him. 

Mandy settled back, content that he was being taken care of as well. “He’s ok, no bullet holes?”

“Not even a scratch,” Trent promised, omitting the fact that he was dealing with a mild case of frostbite to his hand. It wasn’t a concern,  _ yet. _

“Why were you dodging bullets and why didn’t any of us know about it?” Jason questioned quietly, not letting Mandy evade the question or move from his side. 

“I had gotten intel translated earlier this evening, something about a meeting point for an asset that I was trying to groom for Bravo. Turns out it wasn’t a meeting point for conversation, but for a snatch and grab.”

“So the translator is dirty,” Brock surmised. No one translates something that differently unless there was another agenda. 

“How did Clay get involved? Anyone of us would have gone with you to the meeting point if we had known, how did Clay know?”

“From what I can tell, he translated the damn thing himself and came to find me when he realized that it was wrong,” Mandy replied, teeth chattering lightly. “Alexei was demanding answers and the last thing I saw was a fist coming towards me before Clay was rolling around in the snow with him. I thought that you would all come out of the woods once he was down, but when no one else showed up… we started to move. The Humvee lasted for a while before the tires got blown out, then we started to walk.”

“Wait, you both walked back to base. In the snow. Without any snow gear?” Trent asked, questioning both of their sanity. Yeah sitting in a Humvee wasn’t the best choice for cover, but it was better to wait than to try and walk.

“We were close, I could see the watchtower from where we were. It gets weird after that, Clay carried me and ran. Then here we are.” Mandy let out a long yawn, eyes fluttering shut again. None of the guys had the heart to try and ask her any more questions and Jason wasn’t in the mood to let them. 

She needed rest and he needed some time to think about the fact that he nearly lost two of the most important people in his life. He couldn’t begin to process that with Mandy’s knowing gaze on his back. 

“Jay,” Ray called from the other side of the barracks. 

Jason lifted his gaze and caught the thermal shirt that was thrown his way. He manipulated Mandy’s body into the thermal before tucking her into the mattress on the floor. He wasn’t going to be getting much sleep, she might as well use it for the night. 

Of all the things that Jason imagined to have happened to both Clay and Mandy, he wasn’t expecting this, wasn’t expecting to be so angry at himself. While they were on deployment, his brothers were his first priority over anything, even himself. When there was a man down, every single one of them was expected to carry his weight,  _ there was no man left behind _ . And yet, when one of his own was in trouble, the only thought that screamed in his brain was  _ Mandy, Mandy, Mandy, get to Mandy. _

He put her above his brothers.

He cared for her more than he cared for his brothers. 

Yes it was only in that moment, but what if that happened again? What if he was forced to choose without the safety and security of the rest of his team and their barracks? It couldn’t happen again, but yet, Jason wasn’t ready to admit that he couldn’t let Mandy slip away. It was a long time before the barracks were filled with the cacophony of snores once again, but Jason didn’t rest. 

He would be ready for when Clay woke up, whether he was ready with a lecture or with praise had yet to be determined. But he would be ready. 

* * *

* * *

When the sun rose in the one window that they had in the barracks, it shone, without fail, directly into Clay’s eyes. As he squinted, he was unsurprised that he was the first one awake. Stumbling down the ladder, Clay was immediately faced with Jason’s solid torso and for a brief moment, he panicked. 

“She’s fine Kid, good work.”

“So you’re not going to make me run hills?”

“ _ I _ may not be making you run hills, but Trent hasn’t seen you yet. Get dressed and get your ass to medical, Trent’s waiting for you there.”

Clay sighed and started putting on his many layers. It wouldn’t do him any good to show up to medical without his gear and then try and wheedle Trent into not making him run. The snaps and buttons and velcro straps are eluding him, but Clay doesn’t pay it any more mind than he would on a normal morning. He hadn’t had his coffee yet and the buttons were tiny. 

The walk over to the medical building was longer than the walk to the OPs building, but he wasn’t cold. His hands were beginning to hurt, but after his frolic in the tundra last night, he was pretty ok with an aching hand.

“Hey Elsa! Get your ass inside so we can stop letting all the cold air in!” Sonny called through the window, startling Clay slightly. The window was shut before Clay could respond, but he wasn’t going to let that one slide. 

“I’m coming, hold your damn horses Sonny. Maybe it’ll help you blow off some of that hot air you’re carrying,” Clay replied through the door, trying to twist the door knob with his right hand before having to switch to his left.

The door finally opened and Clay grinned nervously at his brothers sitting around a table, med kit spread out and ready for him. Mandy sat next to Brock, sipping on a mug of coffee. She was still dressed in Jason’s thermal shirt, but she didn’t look any worse for wear.

“Alright Kid, show me the hand,” Trent sighed, ready to scold him and half hoping that he wouldn’t have to make any hard decisions this early in the morning. 

Clay fumbled with the buttons and snaps and settled for tugging it all off of him and throwing it in a pile. He could feel the eyes of his brothers on him, but the faster he went through Trent’s exam, the faster they could get the HVT and get back home. Snow was better than sand, but Clay much preferred Virginia Beach to either of those extremes. 

“Do you have sensation in your fingers? Any tingling or numbness?” Trent asked, snapping on a pair of gloves before handing Ray a small flashlight to hold. 

“It hurts, no numbness,” Clay said as he removed his gloves.

“And you didn’t think to mention that you had blisters covering your hands when you walked in?” he questioned, raising an eyebrow. The blisters in question weren’t  _ majorly _ concerning, but they could be if they weren’t taken care of properly. 

“I didn’t see them? I was half asleep pulling stuff on so that you could take a look, didn’t pay attention to it. I thought it was painful because of the cold.”

“It’s painful because of the cold and because you got frostbite from not wearing all of the gear that I gave you,” Trent replied, looking at him with disbelief. He’d gotten the cause of his discomfort but showed no acknowledgement that this was preventable if he’d taken the proper precautions. 

“Can’t shoot a gun if I can’t hold it,” Clay reasoned quietly. “More important to come back in one piece than with a bullet hole.”

Trent didn’t have anything to say in response, just huffed a bit and started to wind gauze around his hand, not stopping until each individual finger was covered and his hand resembled the mitten he was  _ supposed _ to be wearing. 

“You’re grounded, on Mandy duty,” Jason said from the door. “I’m not taking you out if you can’t even hold your gun.”

“I don’t need the gauze, it was fine-”

“Not another word,” Trent growled, taping everything in place. “If you want to maybe keep that hand you need the damn gauze so you don’t magically find an infection that gives you gangrene.”

Clay nodded, knowing when to quit. Trent and Jason would just tag team and add more time to his grounding the more he argued. “We’ll get the translation and be greenlit faster then.”

Clearly Jason wasn’t expecting Clay to give in so quickly, but he didn’t show it other than a flicker of shock across his face. The men filtered out, leaving Mandy and Clay to make their way to the OPs building. It was a long day of puzzling out Russian phrases and idiosyncrasies, but when they finally watched Jason take out Alexei, Clay had the last laugh. They were heading home for two weeks then being redeployed back to Tel Aviv where they were going after another one of Alexei’s associates; one with a penchant for Israeli diamonds. 

Clay didn’t mind heading back to Israel as much as he thought he wold, turns out nearly being frozen to death like Han freakin’ Solo gave a person a new appreciation for sand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know which part you liked the best and your ideas for G!


	7. Green, Gunned, and Gassed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “No. I don’t remember that, I remember begging you not to send me away after my mother died only to find out you told Gram and Gramps that I wanted to live with them over you. Or do you not remember that!”  
> “I did the best that I could for you, a child. What was I supposed to do?”  
> “I don’t know dad, maybe try and do something for your child?”  
> “Like you did something for your friend Brian? How did he die again?”  
> “Don’t you dare bring him up, not today,” Clay warned lowly, the vein on his temple began to throb. Ash was slowly overstaying his welcome, and Clay didn’t want to deal with it today. He just wanted some quiet to remember his friend. Hell all of his friends that had died.  
> He was the last one left, it had to be him.  
> He needed to carry on their legacy.  
> And he would, on Bravo.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... it's been a while and this one is darker than some of the others. I hope you enjoy and leave me a comment about your suggestions for 'H'. As always, stay healthy and enjoy!

The sound of the birds chirping in the air and the warmth of the sun of his face was some sort of cruel joke. It had no place in the graveyard and felt out of place compared to the harsh sobbing that floated through the air. 

Another day, another funeral. 

The priest droned on and on and Clay chafed in his dress whites, uncomfortable with all of the eyes on him and the remaining members of Team Three. 

Remaining. 

What a fucking joke. Yet another one of his men dead because he wasn’t there to watch their backs. 

It wasn’t his fault, logically he knew this, but it still tore at his heart to look at the casket being lowered into the ground. Knowing that he’ll never see Parker’s bright smile or hear his donkey-like laugh. Throwing his handful of dirt on the casket, he walked away from the gravesite, from his men, from the men that he trusted through thick and thin towards another group of men who he wasn’t sure would do the same. 

It was a long drive back to Virginia. Just long enough to shove those emotions into his tiny little box in his brain and ignore and override. 

* * *

* * *

Senior Chief Perry was running late. And not just a little late, but almost twenty minutes late from the time that he was supposed to be in the briefing ready for his deployment. He wasn’t some spring chicken rookie anymore, this was his thirty-third deployment to be exact and he knows better than to show up late. If Jason didn’t have his head then Blackburn was sure to think up some training exercise that would be one personal hell for him. And what an example he was setting up for his newest brother. No matter which way you looked at it, it was a cluster.Walking briskly down the hall, Ray Perry hoped like hell he wasn’t going to be locked out of the briefing room. He had been a SEAL for a long time and aside from one embarrassing moment as a rookie when he had showed up late to a briefing, he hadn’t been late since. But then of course, he didn’t have children and a wife to worry about when he was a rookie. Turns out a newborn throws a wrench into getting out the door in the morning. 

“Little slow there this morning Ray?” Jason asked, trying to look like he wasn’t anxiously watching the clock waiting for his friend to arrive. The few weeks that Ray had been on paternity leave were some of the hardest for the team; one member missing while another one was trying to find his place. It had been an interesting month to say the least. 

“Yeah, yeah, sorry brother. Jameelah didn’t want to let me go this morning, sorry I’m late everyone.” Ray settled himself with yet another cup of coffee. As he looked around at his brothers sitting around the table, he only counted four heads when there should have been five. Someone was missing. “Where’s the Kid?”

“Blondzilla’s probably too green to even realize that he needs to come to the briefing room before we ship out,” Sonny grunted, disdain written clearly on his face. 

“And I’m sure that you didn’t say anything to him the last time that you saw him, did you Sonny?” Trent questioned, reaching for his pocket only to realize that he had left his cell phone outside in the basket before going into the secure room.

“I sure as hell wasn’t going to tell Princess Peach anything, he’s a big boy,” Sonny justified, chomping down on his toothpick. The guys could say whatever they wanted about him, he wasn’t going to bend over backwards for someone he was sure was going to fuck him over in the end. Not for some pretty boy like Clay Spenser. Not on his watch. 

“Being a big boy and showing him the ropes are two different things, Son,” Ray intoned quietly, already suspecting that their relationship was going to take longer to develop than any of them had hoped. When he had pressured Jason into drafting Spenser, he felt that it was in the best interest of the team, but after watching how Sonny went after Clay, he wasn’t so sure anymore. Bravo needed someone like Clay, someone fresh and willing to push the envelope, much like a younger Jason Hayes. Screw the legacy that he supposedly had, Clay wasn’t his father and the sooner the guys realized that the sooner they would get back to being _Bravo_ again. Nothing would ever replace the Nate-sized hole in their lives, but they just might have room for another brother. It would take time, but Ray was hoping that he could get Jason to see what was right in front of him before Clay decided to put in his papers.

“Spenser knew about the briefing, gentlemen. He’ll be meeting us to load up after we’re briefed, and Sonny can be the one to fill him in when he arrives,” Eric Blackburn cut in, hoping to stop an argument before it began. He had debated back and forth with Charlie Harrington and Adam Seaver about allowing Spenser to take leave, a special treatment that wasn’t given to many rookies. But he had made it through BUDS, made it through losing his best friend, made it through the draft. They weren’t on an OP and he would be back before they needed to leave on the next morsel of actionable intel. 

In short, they didn’t have anything that would justify keeping him from going to yet another funeral. At least this time they had a body to bury. 

“Wait, meet us there?” Jason questioned quietly, not wanting to argue with his superior officer in front of his men

“Yes, he will meet us there,” Blackburn repeated, hoping that his men would drop the conversation.

No such luck. 

“Where is he, taking a nap with his blankie?” Sonny snorted, spitting out his toothpick.

“No, Petty Officer Quinn, he’s burying a teammate. Now if we could get started?” satisfied with the silence, Blackburn passed out folders and opened his mouth to start informing his men about a series of airstrikes in southern Iran when all hell broke loose. 

“What the fuck do you mean he’s _burying a teammate_?” Ray choked out, not liking the fact that he was kept that far out of the loop while he was on paternity leave. “When did that happen? Why didn’t anyone tell me about this?” Regardless of the tenuous relationship that they had with Spenser, none of them would knowingly let one of their brothers bury a friend alone. Hell, even if no one else was going to go to the funeral with him, Ray would have gone, paternity leave be damned. 

“No one told you, Ray, because no one knew,” Trent said, running his hands through his hair. Trent was hoping that Clay would have had an easier time adjusting to being on the teams, but it looked like he was off to a rough start. They had all watched when he lost his best friend in Green Team, and had all seen the devastation that consumed him. To lose another friend so close together was cruel and Trent hoped that Clay was capable of pulling through it. And Trent knew that if they could all collectively get their heads out of their asses and help him, he would pull through. 

Convincing his brothers to support their newest brother would be another matter. 

“We got word that one of the men that served under Clay in team three was killed in a strike. The burial fell in between deployments and Petty Officer Spenser was granted leave to go to the burial in Maryland. He’ll be back in time for our ship out time tonight. Now if that’s settled, can we continue?”

“He didn’t tell any of us,” Brock whispered, a knot settling deep in his stomach. Brock actually liked the new rookie, had said more than a few words to him since he was drafted. But those few words weren’t going to make a relationship, one that obviously wasn’t mutually agreed upon yet. For one of their brothers to be going through that much pain and not say a word cut deep. It meant that Clay didn’t trust them enough to let them in and accept their help. He was their brother, through thick and thin but apparently that brotherhood only existed while they were deployed. 

“No, he didn’t and, truth be told, I can’t really blame him,” Eric said quietly. It wasn’t his place to pass judgement on his men, or to interfere with the team dynamic, but he couldn’t hold his tongue anymore. Clay Spenser was their brother as soon as Jason made the decision to bring him into the team. For them to be treating him like an outsider, like someone not worth their time wasn’t something that Eric was just going to _let go_ . Eric Blackburn had made a promise to himself and to Adam Seaver a long time ago that he would do whatever it took to help Spenser. He was fairly certain that his men had no idea that the little boy that featured in so many of his and Adam’s glory day stories was actually a younger Clay Spenser. Hell, he wasn’t sure that Clay even _remembered_ any of those stories, he was so little. 

He was with them one day, and the next they were burying Shannon and Clay was headed off to a war torn country without another word.

But now that Clay was within his grasp, he and Adam had done _everything_ possible to ensure that he made it through green team and was drafted onto the best team possible. The best team possible being Bravo.

He would let Jason think that the decision to draft Clay was his, but in reality, Clay Spenser was never going to be drafted anywhere other than Bravo team. Not as long as he was alive. Now the problem was going to be getting him to stay on Bravo. 

“Eric…” Jason trailed off, a flush of shame rushing over him. He didn’t know what else could be said, there was no excuse for their behavior. Even if Sonny wasn’t sure of the new kid, it was Jason’s decision to bring him into the family and if anyone should have gone the extra mile to make him feel at home, it should have been him. 

But it wasn’t. 

He let his brother down and that was on him. 

Nothing more was said and the only sound echoing in the small chamber was the ticking of the ancient clock on the wall. There would have to be a time to sit down and hash this all out, but right before a deployment was not that time. Eric just hoped that they would be able to put aside their differences and make it home again in one piece. He didn’t want to think about the possibility of burying another one of his men because no one trusted him to have their backs. Or because no one wanted to stick their neck out for the rookie. 

Eric swallowed harshly, wishing that there was something a little stronger in his mug to settle his nerves. Soldiering on, Eric continued his briefing as if nothing had happened. Ignore and override, right? “Alright gentlemen, we’re heading back to our favorite place, the Khuzestan province.”

“Ah hell, Kuwait?” Sonny complained, changing the subject quickly from their newest brother to the hell hole that they would be visiting. 

“Iran actually, and the sooner I get through this the more time you have to spend with your families. I’m sure Chastity is waiting for you Son, so let me get through this.” Eric joked, hoping to inspire some levity into the group while reminding Sonny that the rest of the world was waiting for them to finish the damn briefing before their deployment.

“Sir, yes sir,” Sonny muttered, twirling his pen in between his fingers. He had a feeling that he wouldn’t be making his appointment with Chastity after all. Instead he’d be going after one blue eyed, blond haired, GQ wannabe rookie. 

“Ok boys, so we’re going after…”

* * *

* * *

After one horrific hour, the boys stumble out of the briefing room but before any of them could scurry away, Jason cleared his throat. “No one is going home just yet, we have one thing left to do before we deploy.”

“We’re going after the Kid, aren’t we?” Sonny grumbled, scrolling aimlessly through his phone, feigning disinterest.

“No, Sonny, we’re going after our brother,” Ray retorted, shaking his head. It never ceased to amaze him how stubborn Sonny could be when he got an idea stuck in his head, but it was far past time for him to accept that Nate was gone and that he hadn’t gotten his way during the draft. 

“And we know where to find him?”

“Got an address right here, Son. If we hurry, I might be able to head over to the bakery and place the order for Emma’s birthday before we ship out. ‘Lana’s been bothering me about it for weeks.”

“Ah what the hell, come on then. I wanna have time to get one of those donuts then,” Sonny grumbled, trailing after Jason.

“Why do I have a feeling that this isn’t going to go well?” Brock wondered, scaring the shit out of Trent.

“Because it’s not Brock, either we’re going to show up and everything is fine and Clay will pretend he doesn’t need anything or we’re going to walk in on a very private person experiencing a fuck ton of grief without a support system. Add into that an angry Sonny and an impending deployment....”

“We get it, Trent. It’s going to be a shit show,” Ray sighed, starting the engine to his truck. Clay’s apartment was easily a thirty minute drive from base and they didn’t have that much time before they had to be back at the airstrip. While Ray was glad to be back, and excited at the prospect of a new deployment, moments like this when he felt like he was more a parent than an operator drained him. At least with Jameelah and RJ, one of them could go into timeout if they were misbehaving. No such luck with grown men. “Do we even know anything about Clay before he went to BUDS, besides the fact that his dad operated with Swanny and Adam back in the day?”

“Not much, just the basics in his files,” Trent replied, thinking over their discussions on Clay when they were drafting. “He led Team Three, had two major injuries and several minor before applying to BUDS. He enlisted right out of high school at seventeen when he got his GED. His previous commanders have nothing but praise for him.”

“So in other words, a squeaky clean record with exemplary behavior,” Brock surmised, thinking of all the shit that Clay had taken while he was on green team. Brock had never told anyone that after the first mission that Clay had gone on with them as a strap, he paid attention to him on base, sought his crew out while they were running drills. Not once did Clay complain about the shit that was being thrown at him. Not once did Clay complain that he was being treated unfairly. Clay showed up, worked hard, and made it through. 

No matter what his brothers said about Clay, Brock couldn’t find anything wrong with his work ethic or how he operated in the field. Cockiness was something that they could beat out of him later, but they needed him to trust them first. 

It was a catch twenty two no matter which way you looked. Clay wouldn’t trust them enough to drop the cocky ass attitude and the rest of his brothers wouldn’t trust him enough to treat him like a brother.

Brock wished in times like these that his brothers could see what he saw while they were too busy running their mouths. “Are we ready for this?”

“I don’t think we have another choice here, Brock. Jason’s hell bent on making this go away,” Ray sighed, parking next to Clay’s truck. As far as he could tell, Jason and Sonny hadn’t gotten there yet, a small blessing. “Maybe we can try and smooth things over before Sonny gets involved.”

Trent, Ray, and Brock made their way into Clay’s building, not knowing what they were walking into and what they should have left well enough alone. 

* * *

* * *

“Are you sure that you made the right choice here?”

“What do you mean,” Clay sighed, trying to figure out how to discreetly kick Ash out of his apartment. At the grave site, Ash had shown up at his shoulder and hadn’t left. The graveyard wasn’t exactly the right place to kick his father to the curb but now in his apartment… it was fair game. 

“You really want to deploy? The SEALS are the choice that you made? Of all the branches of the military that you could have gone into, you chose SEALS?” Ash said, draining his second beer. 

Clay held in his retort, treading lightly. The last thing he wanted was to start a fight on today of all days. What Clay really wanted was a moment of quiet before going into the lions’ den in a desert hellhole. But that wasn’t going to happen. Not today at least. “I thought you’d want me to be a SEAL, follow in the legacy and all that,” Clay said lightly, shaking out two aspirin and swallowing them dry. That was all Ash had ever talked about when he had come to visit him as a kid, following the legacy and making something of himself when he grew up. Figures that now he would have second thoughts on the man that Clay had become when he wasn’t paying attention.

“I never said that,” Ash replied, gazing through the small window in the living room.

“I didn’t say that you had told me that you wanted me to be a SEAL,” Clay replied, a note of exasperation in his voice.

“And there you go again, putting words in my mouth. You always jump to conclusions that fast?”

“I put words in your mouth? Me?”

“Yes, everything that I’ve ever said you turned around on me, don’t you remember? You treat your friends like this?”

“No. I don’t remember that, I remember begging you not to send me away after my mother died only to find out _you_ told Gram and Gramps that I wanted to live with them over you. Or do you not _remember_ that!”

“I did the best that I could for you, a child. What was I supposed to do?”

“I don’t know _dad_ , maybe try and do something for your child?”

“Like you did something for your friend Brian? How did he die again?”

“Don’t you dare bring him up, not today,” Clay warned lowly, the vein on his temple began to throb. Ash was slowly overstaying his welcome, and Clay didn’t want to deal with it today. He just wanted some quiet to remember his friend. Hell all of his friends that had died. 

He was the last one left, it had to be him. 

He needed to carry on their legacy. 

And he would, on Bravo. 

Just like Parker wanted.

“Why? Can’t stand the fact that they died because they knew _you?_ That you’re going to start operating and more people are going to die saving your sorry ass? Well buck up Kid,” Ash sneered, “It’s the truth.”

“No, you couldn’t be bothered to stick around for your flesh and blood. Shannon died and you left with Adam and Swanny to go operate and I found myself halfway across the world! So no, it isn’t the truth and you damn well know it.”

“Don’t pretend like she was the mother of the year, Clay. You and I both know better than that,” Ash sneered. 

For a second Clay considered the fact that he could take him if things got physical, he was finally big enough where he might have a chance. But none of that would look good if it ever got out and he was just starting his career. “Get out.”

“Hold on here, Clay, I think you’re confused and I think you’re grief stricken. You’ll come back from this deployment and realize that I’m right and we can talk about other options besides SEALS.”

“Ash, there are no other options. I am an operator, I operate on Bravo Team and I don’t want to hear any options beyond that. It’s time for you to go.”

“You know son, one day you’ll realize that I’m right about you. After all, a parent knows their child and I know what you’ll amount to one day. And when you realize that, it’ll be too late. I just hope you realize it before someone else dies. You don’t want anyone else to end up like your buddy Parker.”

Clay stood at the kitchen counter, vibrating with rage as Ash walked out the front, and his life, once more, leaving the stunned members of Bravo in the doorway. 

Great. 

Just what he needed today. 

Taking one last deep breath, Clay let his fist fly wishing it was his father’s smug face, not even feeling the crunch of drywall beneath his fist. 

* * *

* * *

Brock led the way down to Clay’s apartment, wishing like hell that they had thought ahead and brough Cerberus with them. Cerb always managed to make everyone feel a little bit more at ease and Brock had a sinking feeling that they would need her calming presence. “Has anyone ever actually been to his apartment?”

“No, he moved in before green team and there hasn’t been a reason for us to go, he never invited us in either,” Ray admitted, racking his brain for any information that he could remember about Spenser. 

“Oh great, so we’re showing uninvited and unannounced and none of us have ever stepped foot inside this place, this is going to go so well,” Trent muttered.

“At least Jason will have a reason for showing up, we can all say that we tagged along. Besides, we don’t even know if he’s going to be there.”

The three men rounded the corner and heard Clay’s voice coming through the unimposing door. “... or do you not remember that!”

“I don’t know Ray, I’d say he’s in there,” Brock said, standing in front of the door, willing himself to remain calm. _He’s fine, he’s a grown man, you’ll go inside in a minute,_ Brock thought to himself, breathing deeply, trying to remind himself that Clay was more than competent to take care of himself, in any situation. 

“What do we do?”

“I don’t know, Ray, probably knock on the front door.”

“Don’t give me that Trent, he’s not alone in there and I don’t really feel like interrupting whatever _that_ is,” Ray said, gesturing to the door. “Who knows who’s even in there with him.”

“I do,” Brock said, clenching his fists. “That’s Ash Spenser’s voice.”

“The fuck is Clay’s daddy doing in there with ‘em, I thought _they didn’t get along_.”

“Nice of you to show up, Son, we’re trying to figure that out ourselves,” Ray said, pacing in front of the doorway. Five fully grown men were too afraid to open a damn door and confront what was on the other side. 

“And you all decided that standing here was how you’d figure that out?” Jason questioned, trying to make sense of the situation that they had found themselves in. How did picking up one of their brothers turn into a recon mission?

“Not exactly, Jay,” Trent said, sighing. “We know that a) he’s home, and b) that he doesn’t get along with dear old dad like we thought, judging by their argument. Not as pampered as you thought, is he Sonny?”

“One argument doesn’t mean that they’re not close, like us Trent, we fight like my grandninny’s cat and the next door neighbor’s mutt and I still like you just fine. I ain’t convinced yet.”

“Son, I’m sure that nothing short of a miracle would convince you that -” Trent was cut off by the door slamming open and Ash Spenser maneuvering himself between them as he stormed out. Blinking away their shock, they all watched as Clay let his fist fly and the drywall crumple underneath his fist. 

* * *

* * *

“Hiya kid, how ya been?” Sonny cracked, smiling tightly. 

Brock and Trent shook their heads behind him. Only Sonny would try and diffuse a tense situation with humor. If only that humor was actually funny. Instead of lightening the mood, it only served to drive a wedge further between them. 

“What the fuck? Sonny?” Clay said, shaking out his hand. From one messy scenario with his dad to another messy scenario with his so called ‘brothers’, his mind was spinning. Not to mention that he had just buried his best friend this morning. And oh yeah, he was deploying in less than an hour.

“We came to scoop ya, Kid. Got an OP,” Jason said, muscling his way through Trent and Ray’s shoulders. 

“Ok, I’ll be out in a minute. Do you guys mind?” Clay said, uncomfortable with five pairs of eyes staring back at him, analyzing one of the most problematic parts of his life like he was a bug under a microscope. 

“Alright boys, let’s go,” Ray said, herding the guys away from the door. No one wanted to move, but they didn’t have a reason to stay. Or not a good one, at least. “Come on, Jay.”

“You guys go, Clay can ride back with me,” Jason said, holding Clay’s gaze. 

“So no bakery…” Sonny trailed off, shit eating grin wide on his face. Pretty boy’s life wasn’t all that it was cracked up to be, but damn it he really wanted that donut. They all had shit that they dealt with, why was Clay any different?

Ray grabbed Sonny by the shoulder and dragged him back the way they came, shooting Clay an apologetic look. Jason waited until the elevator door closed before stepping foot into Clay’s apartment.

“Sure, come on in then, Boss,” Clay said, shutting the door behind him. He had a lot to do before they were wheels up, might as well have a hand if he was hell bent on staying. 

“You want to talk about it?”

“Not really, no. Wanna make sure that the fridge is empty?”

Jason nodded, thinking about how he was going to get Clay to talk about something that he wasn’t sure even existed. One fight didn’t explain an entire relationship, but it was certainly telling about the way he had grown up. The tricky part would be ensuring that Clay never found out how much they had heard before the door opened. Jason opened and closed the fridge door, noting the lone six pack in the fridge. “You’re good, Kid. Anything else I can do?”

“Nah, let me pack some clothes real quick and then we can go.” Clay said, stalking back towards the bedroom, deliberately not staying in one place for too long. You couldn’t be questioned if you never stood still long enough for someone to ask. 

Jason stood in the living room, gazing around the apartment. There was furniture, but it was basic. A couch, a tv, a coffee table. There were two lonely chairs at the breakfast nook with one picture held by a tiny black magnet. Clay’s face stared back at him along with a man he did not know, but was surely the teammate that Clay had buried this morning. Jason felt a tug at his heart for the loss that Clay was undoubtedly feeling. 

“You ready man?” Clay called out from the bedroom, slinging his duffle over his shoulder, game face firmly in place. 

“In a minute Kid, I gotta ask here, what was that?”

“I don’t want to talk about it, you heard an argument and nothing more. We have an OP. Let’s go.”

Jason studied his face, trying to see if Clay would answer if he kept pushing. Clay held his gaze and the seconds ticked by and yet he didn’t budge. “Ok, let’s go. We’re going to Iran.”

* * *

* * *

The belly of the C17 was quiet, but far from peaceful. Normally Brock would be far gone on his journey to dreamland, but he couldn’t shake the image of Clay’s face when they opened that door. It was fear, and anguish, and irritation all concealed by what Brock called his green team mask. No emotion leaked through the mask, but if you looked closely enough you could tell that Clay was in pain. 

“What are you staring at?” Trent asked, trying to discreetly prod at Brock without having him shut him out. 

“Clay,” Brock answered shortly, not in the mood to answer any questions. The way that they had chosen to handle this was all wrong and led to more pain for the person that they were trying to protect. It wasn’t Trent’s fault, but Brock couldn’t help but place a little bit of blame on everyone, including himself. 

“He’s quieter than usual,” Trent noted, voice light.

“Probably because we’re going to the same country where his friend died and he doesn’t have anyone watching his six.”

“What the fuck are we, then, chopped liver?”

“Alright,” Brock amended, “No one he trusts to watch his six. Think about it, Trent. We show up on one of the worst days of this kid’s life, witness the reality behind what I’m sure wasn’t a very pleasant childhood, and insert ourselves into his life without his consent. I wouldn’t be very trusting either.”

“Are you sure that you’re not projecting here, Brock?”

Brock turned to look at Trent, disgust clear on his face. “Yeah Trent, I’m sure. Did you hear the way that that asshole spoke to Clay, our _brother?_ The way that he dismissed him, made everything his fault?”

“I heard it,” Trent echoed.

“Then you should realize that there’s more to that than any of us realize and maybe instead of treating him like an interloper we could have brought him into Bravo better. Should have been more supportive. Should have done _something_.”

“I get where you’re coming from Brock, I do, but I’m not the one who’s been icing him out since the beginning. I can only do so much”

Brock knew that he was right, Trent was as mild mannered as they came and wouldn’t willingly stir the pot. When faced with the whirlwind that was Sonny, Trent liked to take the backseat unless he was needed, and then it was understood that the rest of them would fall in line. It wasn’t in his nature to confront things and cause pain. He was a medic, he was supposed to cure pain yet they were all feeling a world of hurt that no bandage or splint would fix. 

The two men sat in silence as they watched Clay sit in his hammock alone, flipping pages of a large book that had surely seen better days. Even though he was flipping pages, Brock wasn’t sure if he had actually read any of the words on the page, his gaze vacant. If it was anyone else they would have been grounded from the OP before they could even protest, but that was yet another luxury that wasn’t afforded to his youngest brother because of who he was, or rather because of his last name. “You think I’m projecting?”

“You think that Clay was abused as a kid?”

“And you don’t Trent?” Brock said, wondering if he was actually seeing things that no one else was picking up on or if he really was projecting his thoughts and emotions onto Clay. 

“I don’t want to make assumptions without facts, for all we know that conversation was just that, a conversation. Until Clay tells me otherwise, directly, I’m not going to pry.”

“I’m not going to pry either, Trent. It’s his business and I don’t want to be that person, but we have got to figure out how to make him family and how to show him what family is supposed to be like. If his real family sucked as much as I’m thinking it did, he needs us to be his brothers.”

Trent didn’t say anything, just sat with Brock and watched Clay, alone in his hammock. Brock was right, Clay needed them right now. And he needed them badly, probably more than he even realized. 

* * *

* * *

By the time they touched down in Iran, it was a full day since Parker was buried, and yet every time Clay closed his eyes he saw the casket being lowered into the ground and the sound of his wife’s sobbing ringing in his ears. _Focus,_ he scolded himself, checking the sight on his rifle. _There’s no time for that right now, watch your sorry ass._

“Alright boys, nice and easy, eliminate the target and we can be stateside before anyone has time to miss us,” Jason said, hoping that they would be able to eliminate the jackpot and go home. “Ray, you and Clay take the back, Trent, Sonny, sides, Brock with me.”

Moving swiftly, they got into position in the still Iranian night before storming the building. They all managed to take two steps before the silence was shattered by the familiar sounds of gunfire ringing through the humid air. 

“Aw fuck, just when I thought we’d have a quiet night in,” Sonny quipped over the comms, firing quickly, not seeing the tango aiming for his head. Sonny turned and saw him far too late, but before he could make a sound, he dropped.

“Watch your six, will ya Son?” Clay said, taking out two more tangoes that were high on top of the huts. Just as quickly as the gunfight began, it was over. The men swept through the carnage, found the jackpot, and melted back into the night just as silently as they arrived.

“Alright boys, exfil time,” Jason said, shouldering his rifle. They had done what they came here for and it was time to get the hell out of dodge before they started an international incident that couldn’t be explained away. 

Clay found himself at the back of line, limping slightly. He had hit the deck hard when the first shot rang out and he was feeling every single ache and pain. Trent didn’t stop them to do a call out and the last thing that Clay wanted right now was to halt the long trek back to the chopper. His hip is aching, each beat of his heart sending a shockwave through him. 

But he didn’t say anything. 

Ash’s words were ringing through his brain, along with some particularly cruel comments from his so called brothers throughout the last few weeks. _Don’t be dramatic… think about someone besides yourself...you wanted to be a SEAL, fucking act like one then._ The OP needed to end and while it wasn’t the same thing, he still felt like they were making a difference for Parker with every motherfucker that they took out in this godforsaken country. 

* * *

* * *

Ray watched Clay closely as they boarded the plane. He had been quiet the entire OP but this was more than just the mask that they were used to seeing on Clay. Except Ray couldn’t put his finger on what was different. Clay was quiet, withdrawn, but with every step he took he was steeling himself for _something_. “Hey, Clay, uh, you good?”

“I’m fine, Ray.” Clay said shortly.

“You sure, you’re, uh, limping over there,” Ray pushed. Something wasn’t right and he was determined to get to the bottom of it, even if Clay shut him out. Someone had to be the one to worm their way into the kid’s head, no time like the present. 

“Hit the deck a little too hard, my hip’s acting up.”

“Why didn’t you say something!” Ray exclaimed, sitting up right in his hammock. He scanned the room, hoping that he would catch a glimpse of Trent still awake and that he wouldn’t have to wake him. The man liked his sleep post OP and would not take kindly to be woken for a strained muscle. 

No such luck, he was down for the count. 

“We didn’t do a call out, figured it was just how you guys ran. It’s a strained muscle, Ray. We’ve all had one before.”

Ray shook his head, the kid was right. They’d all operated with various strain and sprains and a whole assortment of things. Hell he couldn’t even fault him for it, he was right, they didn’t do a call out. “Alright Clay, strip ‘em, you’re going to let me take a look.”

“Ray, that’s really not necessary.”

“I don’t care if it’s necessary or not, you’re doing it. Stand and strip Spenser, don’t make me get Trent out of his bed for a strain.” Ray watched as he stood, wincing as he put weight on his left leg. The clank of the belt and the sound of the zipper echoed amongst the snores from the rest of his brothers and Ray felt his breath catch in his throat. The kid hadn’t strained a muscle or torn a ligament in the hip or found a nasty case of road rash. 

Somehow, some way the kid had managed to get himself shot and didn’t tell anyone, or hell didn’t even seem to notice that he had been shot. “Clay,” Ray sighed, pinching his brow. “You got shot?”

“What? No!”

“Then where the hell did that blood come from? Ray said, swinging his legs over the edge of his hammock. This wasn’t going to be as simple as a bag of ice from Davis and some sleep. 

“I don’t know, it’s not a bullet wound. I’d know if I got shot, Ray. This isn’t my first rodeo.” Clay paused for a moment, thinking about the shit that was going to come his way because of a stray bullet. “Lemme guess now you’ve got to wake up the entire team for them to ream me out because I didn’t report an injury right away.”

Ray hesitated. Yes, that was technically the right call. He needed to inform the rest of them that they needed to adjust their AARs and then get Clay the medical treatment that he needed, but it wasn’t the right call for Clay’s wellbeing. The last thing that he needed was four more mother hens looming over him. 

Add to that Sonny’s comments, they’d never get an honest answer out of the kid. 

The exact opposite of what he needed right now. 

“No, I’m not going to wake them up, but you have to let me look at it. If it’s bad, I’m getting Trent.”

Clay sighed, then stepped closer. It honestly didn’t hurt that bad, and likely was a through and through injury. If it made Ray feel better, he’d let him take a look at whatever he wanted. 

Ray prodded his leg, trying to find the source of the bleeding. The higher up on the leg he got, the more confused he became. There was no wound that he could see, but there was blood dripping down his thigh. “Kid, where the hell is this wound?”

“I don’t know, Ray, my hip hurts. I think it’s higher up than my thigh.”

Ray nodded and searched higher until he found the wound, right below the ass cheek. “I don’t know how you did it, brother, but you got shot in the damn ass.” The wound was more of a graze than a bullet hole and Ray still couldn’t quite wrap his head around the fact that Clay had managed to get shot through his gear and his fatigues and not feel it. 

“Alright, can you slap a bandaid on it so I can go back to sleep?” Clay asked, hoping beyond hope that this would all go away. If he ignored things, they went away. It worked so far for everything else in his life, it would work for him in this situation. 

“Yeah, but if it gets worse, then I’m getting Trent and you’re going to explain this whole thing. As it is, you’re going to base doc when we get stateside. You understand?”

“I got it Ray,” Clay said, buckling his belt. Clay laid back down in his hammock and tried to close his eyes, but his mind was racing. There was more waiting for him at home than there was when he deployed and he was in no mood to deal with Ash. 

Hopefully he’d finally left town. 

Clay let his eyes drift shut, hoping that his dreams would prove a happier place than his current environment. 

* * *

* * *

Ray wondered if he’d made the right choice. Normally this far into the flight home, he’d have gotten at least four hours of sleep by now and yet, he was wide awake. Accepting the fact that he wasn’t going to get any sleep, Ray stood up and checked on the kid. Happy to find him sound asleep, he moved over to where Trent was sitting, reading quietly. 

“I’ve got some ambien if you can’t sleep, still got enough time to sleep it off before we hit the tarmac,” Trent said mildly, munching on some chips that Davis had found for them. 

“Nah, I’m good. I don’t think I’m going to get much sleep tonight.”

“What’s wrong?” Trent said, wiping his hands. Ray would normally take the ambien and gladly hobble to his hammock and knock out for a few. Something was bothering him, and it was going to have to come out before he would relax. 

“I don’t want you to get upset.”

“That’s not a good start,” Trent said, hoping that his silence and relatively short responses would prompt Ray to start talking. It worked with Brock, it might work with Ray. Each of his brothers had their own way of expressing themselves, from the very shy Brock to the exuberant Sonny. Ray usually fell in the middle, but liked to talk more than Jason did. For him to be this silent was unsettling. 

“Clay got shot, well really more like grazed.”

“Excuse me! Ray!”

“I took care of it, it wasn’t that deep and by the time I found out about it, the damn thing was already clotted off,” Ray hurried to explain. He knew that Trent wasn’t going to be happy about it, but he stood by his decision. He made the right call. 

“And you didn’t say anything? I know I don’t like being woken up, but damn it Ray, wake me up for a damn gunshot wound!”

“I didn’t wake you, because it wasn’t the right choice. You’re the medic, Trent, but the kid didn’t need every single one of us breathing down his neck for something that wasn’t his fault.”

“Yeah, but he also needs to learn that he can’t ignore those injuries. What if that wound was worse? What if he was critically injured and didn’t say a damn thing?”

“He didn’t even know that he was shot, Trent. I’m not about to punish him for something he didn’t know about. If it bothers you that much, go over it with him, teach him what it means to be a part of Bravo and what _you_ need to know to do your job.” Ray was annoyed with Trent, not because he was making a big deal about being woken up but because of the expectation that he held for Clay. How was the Kid supposed to know about what he needed to report in and what he didn’t if no one ever told him? He was beginning to understand Brock’s annoyance the more he watched his brothers interact with Clay. 

“Oh don’t worry about that, I will. The kid and I are going to have words. The real question is why you didn’t follow the protocol. You know that with any injury, I _need_ to know. It’s the only way that we can control what happens in the field after shit hits the fan.”

“I know that, Trent, but the damage was already done. Why do you think we all take the first aid course, so we can take care of ourselves and our brothers. I already told the kid that if I thought it was getting worse, he was going right to you and that he was going to base medical when we got stateside.”

“Not to mention what’s going to come out of my mouth when I find him,” Trent grumbled, hating the fact that Ray was making sense. He wouldn’t have been _annoyed_ per se if someone woke him for a wound that they could have tended to themselves, but he wouldn’t be happy. The fact that it was the Kid only added insult to injury because they were trying to get him to trust them, but in Ray not waking him, he gained that trust.

“Trent, maybe instead of berating him, ask him why he didn’t want to talk to you. I think he needs more of a gentle touch than what you’d normally use for Jason or Sonny,” Ray suggested, hoping that they could avoid any _more_ drama. For a bunch of men they were all sitting around acting like teenage girls not wanting to fucking talk to each other when something was bothering them.

Trent nodded, thinking about how he was going to pry anything out of the kid. As usual, Ray had seen things before anyone else and was now trying to get the rest of them on board. Leaning his head back, Trent realized that Jason was going to have a cow when he found out.

It was going to be a shit show and a half when he found out that Clay hid his injury.

* * *

* * *

The C17 finally lands and Clay can’t wait to get home and hear nothing but _silence_. The last hour that they were airborne, it was nothing but complaints and jokes from every angle. Sonny couldn’t stop complaining about every little thing, and Clay couldn’t hack it. The sound of his voice grated on his nerves until he was stretched tighter than a bow and the throbbing in his hip told him that his little wound wasn’t going to go away as easily. 

With a wave of his hand, Clay walked back out to his truck trying his damndest to not let anyone know he was injured. He managed it pretty well, but when his back was turned he missed the knowing glances between Brock and Trent. Trent sighed and shouldered his bag, getting ready to call out to him when Ray put his hand on his shoulder, stopping him in his tracks. “Let him go, you’ll see him tomorrow.”

“Ray, he needs to let me see it, what if we get spun up tomorrow?”

“Then we deal with it tomorrow, the most you’ll do is slap another gauze pad and give him some meds that he’ll refuse to take. He’ll get us if something is going wrong,” Ray said confidently, sure that he’d reach out to someone if he couldn’t handle the wound by himself.

“I don’t like it,” Trent muttered, crossing his arms. Clay had long since driven off the tarmac, leaving him to be frank with his thoughts. Not that he wasn’t on any given day, but more so now that he didn’t have to temper his emotions to protect Clay.

“You don’t have to like it, Trent, but we all have to get on the same page at some point or this is never going to work. Let him come to us, trust that he will.”

“You got Jason to go along with a wait and see plan?” Trent said incredulously. For all his bluster, Jason wanted the best for his team, he wouldn’t just _hope_ that it would all come together one day.

“Yeah, he agreed,” Ray nodded searching the tarmac for his best friend. They had planned to go for a beer when they got back and yet he was nowhere to be found. Ray had a sinking feeling that he wouldn’t find him on base. “But somehow I don’t think that’s going to happen.”

Trent just tilted his head back and laughed. Jason would never follow that ‘suggestion’ not when he thought that there was something he could do about it. 

* * *

* * *

Clay opened the door to his apartment, relishing in the silence. It was a relief to not have to hold his mask up anymore, to not have to pretend that he wasn’t hurting. Dropping his keys into the bowl on the table, Clay stiffened at a sound behind him. “Ash, look, I’m really not in the mood to argue right now-”

“Kid, it’s me,” Jason said quietly, noting the way that his shoulders relaxed at his proclamation. The fact that he was more relieved that his boss was in his apartment over his father was very telling. 

“Yeah, Jace?” Clay said, ruffling his hair on his head. 

“Came to check up on ya, been a few rough days.” Jason said lightly, eying the hole in the wall. Rough was an understatement to say the least. 

“I’m fine.” He wasn’t really in the mood to hash out why he _wasn’t_ fine. Although if he had to bet, he’d say that Jason knew exactly why he wasn’t fine. “Listen, Ash is an asshole, he comes around just to mess with my head. He’s done it for years. It won’t be a problem while we’re operating.”

Jason took a deep breath, trying to think of a way to explain to Clay that he wasn’t concerned because his dad was interfering with the job, but more so that he was a piece of shit that didn’t deserve his protection. “It doesn’t matter what he said or what he has done in the past, he doesn’t own you and he sure as hell can’t touch, not on my watch. You’re Bravo, and Bravo is family.”

“Yeah Bravo’s family,” Clay scoffed before he could stop himself. 

“It is, Clay, and I know that this hasn’t been the easiest transition ever, but it’s true. The teams are family, even if it’s dysfunctional at times.”

“Dysfunctional Jay? Listen, we don’t have to get along, we don’t have to be best buddies outside of work, but to say that we’re dysfunctional is a lie. They don’t trust me to have their backs, and to be honest, I’m not sure if I trust them to have mine.”

“But you trust them enough to expose your relationship with Ash?” Jason questioned quietly. Ray was right, they had to fix this one way or another and he needed to get to the bottom of things with Clay. Today.

“That’s different, I didn’t have a say in that, you all showed up. How much did you hear?”

“Enough.”

“Jason,” Clay said, pleadingly. Depending on how much they heard, Clay needed to know how much damage control he’d be doing. 

“We heard bits and pieces,” Jason admitted, still not telling the whole truth. 

“Great,” Clay scoffed. “Jace, I can’t- I don’t want to-”

Jason interrupted his stammering, heart breaking at the vulnerability that shown through before Clay could put his emotionless mask back on. “And you don’t have to, not until you’re ready Clay.”

“Sonny’s not going to like that,” Clay scoffed, thinking about how he was going to explain away what had happened in the last three days. Someone would have to answer for… everything. 

“Sonny can answer to me, you’re the Kid.”

“Thanks Jay, for having my back.” Clay wasn’t entirely convinced that he was going to magically be a part of the family that was Bravo, but it was a start. Jason would shut down any sort of conjecture before it began. What they said or did behind his back was another story, but he’d just have to trust that they’d have his back.

Jason stood, making his way to the door. “You got it, now get some rest, you’re gonna need it for all the hills you’ll be running.”

“I got shot in the _ass_ , and you’re still going to make me run hills? Damn that’s cold,” Clay joked, trying to make light of the situation while simultaneously trying to dig himself out of the hole that he dug for himself. 

“Teach you not to listen to people who don’t have your best interests at heart and to not hide a fucking gunshot wound from your brothers, don’t worry, Sonny’s running with you.”

“Jay?” Clay called out before the door shut.

“Yeah Kid?”

“Thanks.”

Jason nodded, nothing more needed to be said. The teams were family and it was high time that Clay was brought into the fold.

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know your thoughts and your ideas for other letters!


End file.
